


Drabbles of Misfits

by GamerAlexis



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Achievement Hunter Kings, Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - GTA V, Alternate Universe - Minecraft, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamerAlexis/pseuds/GamerAlexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of various RT/AH drabbles.  Pairings and tags added as I go, descriptions come per chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack's Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Geoff Pre-Slash. Store owner AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. There's a place called "Jack's Flowers" where I live and it is on the seediest street ever.
> 
> There is also a restaurant called "Burger-Stache". I am not making these things up.

It was the first thing Geoff noticed when he set up his burger shop.  It was hard to miss, the big white sign with "Jack's Flowers" emblazoned on the side.  It was a strange place for a flower shop, in the middle of a busy street in a somewhat sketchy neighborhood.  There was a pub to the left and a tattoo parlor to the right and a gas station across the street.  Hardly the place one would go looking to buy flowers.

Then again, it's not really the place for Geoff's new "Burger-stache" to start, but hey, beggars can't be fucking choosers.

Geoff opens up the building and sighs.  It's clear by the dust and rust that this eatery had been abandoned long ago.  Now it was up to Geoff to try and restore some shine and make it sustainable again.  Well fuck.

"I'm gonna have to call in Gavin," Geoff muttered to himself.

"Who's Gavin?"

Geoff refused to admit that he jumped and squealed at the sound of someone behind him.  Did he panic?  Yes, as was perfectly natural when someone ninja walked behind you.  Said Ninja Walker happened to be holding a potted flower with dirt smudged on his cheeks.  Geoff didn't think it was adorable.

"Sorry," Ninja Walker chuckled.  "Just wanted to welcome you to the strip.  And maybe apologize for this mess."

"Excuse me?"

"Last guy was a real douche and we may have tried to sabotage him."

"We?"

"Yeah, the store owners on this little street.  We call ourselves the strip.  I own the flower shop.  Miles and Arryn co-run the gas station.  Burnie owns the pub and Joel and Adam have the tattoo shop."

"Holy shit you aren't joking," Geoff deadpanned.

Jack (he had to be Jack if he owned fucking "Jack's Flowers" right?) chuckled and set the flower on the table.  "If you need anything, just give a call."

"What about a date?" the words slipped out of Geoff's mouth before he could call them back.  Fuck, he had a thing for sweet, cuddly men.

"How about once your restaurant is set up, I'll give you a call?  Save a burger for me."

And Jack walked out of the store, leaving Geoff with a filthy place to turn into a gorgeous eatery.


	2. Tit for Tat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff runs a tattoo parlor but instead of charging money, he charges favors and it's up to the customer to chose the payment. He's had customers teach him how to cook for the quotes on their collarbones. One girl brought in his favorite whiskey for the butterfly on her shoulder. His apartment is full of knick-knacks from customers and his mind is filled with lessons he's learned over the years.
> 
> Then along comes Michael Jones who asks for something completely different.
> 
> (Michael/Geoff Tattoo Parlor AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read an article about a tattoo artist who does this method where she charges her clients what they think their tattoo is worth (such as a guitar lesson or a home-cooked meal). Can't remember where it is though. Pretty cool idea.

The only reason Geoff can afford this is because his day job is something completely different.  Really, the best of both worlds.  Sit in a cubicle for several hours Monday to Friday and get paid enough for rent and groceries then spend his nights and weekends creating art in exchange for, well, anything.  Griffon is kind enough to lend him a corner of her studio and makes it very clear that his customers are not her customers.  Everyone who walks into The Fort knows there is Griffon and her legit, actually tattoo business, and Geoff on the other side with his unusual practice.

The station is rather small, one seat and a shelf of inks and book of designs.  Geoff's tattoos are simple and understated, anything too big or extravagant would cost more than a favor or two.

"Green or blue block?" he asked Jack as he slid into the seat.

"You decide," Jack held out his forearm, showing a purple Tetris block tattooed on the pale skin.

"Blue it is," Geoff loaded up the gun.

"I already brought my payment," Jack said as Geoff prepped the area.  He gestured to the bag on the ground.  "But I'm willing to bring more."

Geoff opened the bag and saw three new t-shirts folded neatly inside, one of them looked like the one for his favorite video game.  "Was this you or your wife?"

"Caiti thinks I underpaid you last time," Jack chuckled.  "So we're making up for it."

"I had a guy yesterday bring me tickets to the baseball game for an anchor I did on his foot," Geoff said.  "It's your decision, remember?"

Jack nodded and let Geoff do his work.

It had been hard to explain at first, when Geoff begged Griffon to let him borrow her shop.  Geoff was a reasonable tattoo artist and he wanted that to be part of his life.  He couldn't quit the office and that's when the idea hit him.  Exchanging tattoos for favors, essentially.  He's had people pay him in cash, naturally, it only felt right for some.  But Geoff's also had college kids asking for their first tattoo and paying him with bus tokens and free food at their work.  He had one kid, Jeremy, pay for a tattoo using only discount coupons for Applebee's.

Part of it was letting his clients chose a price and part of it was charity, in a way.  Geoff remembered how expensive his tattoos were and how much he wanted them in college.  It was his way of giving back to those students.  They were already busting ass and bank for school, no need to bust bank on something he was willing to offer basically for free.

Geoff left the parlor that day with three shirts, a new pair of shoes, a coupon for his favorite restaurant, and a free guitar lesson next Saturday.

"It's bizarre," Griffon remarked as he packed up.  "The price people put on tattoos."

"You mean the guy who paid me in fucking elephant collectibles?" Geoff snorted.

"I mean that girls and guys have asked me, hundreds of times, if a date was acceptable payment," Griffon rolled her eyes.

Geoff's hands stilled from where he was cleaning his station.  He'd be lying if he said he wasn't hoping for that.  Dating was fucking hard and this was a low key way for someone to ask him out.  Tit for tat, right?  Geoff tatted them up and they took him to dinner and, maybe, to bed.

"Are you the reason no one has offered that then?" Geoff asked.

Griffon turned, eyes sharp.  "Tell me you aren't that desperate."

"It's not desperation, it's efficient," Geoff reasoned.  "No reason to have the awkward tattoo talk if we meet like this."

"Fine," Griffon said.  "I won't hold them back anymore.  You'll be sorry."

Geoff doubted that very much.

 

By next week, Geoff's calendar was filled with dates.  Vapid blondes who only wanted sex.  Virgin girls who thought he looked rugged and experienced.  Casual businessmen avoiding their wives.  College boys who were exploring and experimenting.

And Geoff hated them all.

He got into the habit of asking for payment before even starting the tattoo, just to avoid having to go on pity dates in exchange for his art.  Each time he glanced at Griffon, she just smiled back at him like the bitch she really was.

"I don't know what to do," he complained to Joel as he worked on the design (a set of constellations over Joel's shoulder).  "I can't keep turning them down but I can't keep going on dates.  I need a little fucking stability in my life."

"Get a serious partner," Joel muttered, texting with one hand.  "Can't go on dates if you're not single."

Geoff paused, "You sound stupidly coherent.  Who are you texting?"

"Not important," Joel tucked the phone away and Geoff resumed.  "Look, I mean, you're single and that's what- that's why they ask you on dates.  Because you have no obligation or anything."

"Don't I need to go on fucking dates to get a fucking relationship?" Geoff asked.

"Fucking doesn't mean relationship."

"You know what I mean."

"Look man, I don't know, just, do it.  Get married or get laid or something.  Make you off the market."

 

Geoff was just about to lock the door (Griffon left early for a doctor visit) when someone ambled up to the door.  He looked like a college kid with hands stuffed in pockets and a beanie pulled over his curly hair.  His jeans were torn and his sneakers were ratty.

"Can I help you?" Geoff asked.

"You the one asking for favors?" the kid asked.

"I'm offering tattoos for favors, yeah," Geoff nodded.

The kid stuck his hand out, "I'm Michael.  I have something to offer you.  I'll be by tomorrow afternoon."

Geoff shook his hand.  The kid, Michael, nodded once and turned and walked away.

 

The next day, Geoff sat in his seat, twitching every time the door opened.  Thank Christ it was Sunday.  Not a lot of people came in and Geoff was spared the ultimate teasing from Griffon.  He couldn't get the kid out of his mind.  The tease of auburn curls beneath the beanie.  The sprinkle of freckles across his nose.  The warm, calloused grip of his hand.  Geoff never felt infatuation like this before.  Sure, he'd lusted after people, wanted to fuck them and feel them.  But this Michael?  With one conversation, Geoff wanted to hold his hand and take him to dinner.  He wanted to actually date this kid and they only spoke once.

He watched the clock tick from minute to minute.  1:24.  1:25.  1:26.  At 1:30 the door jingled and Michael stepped in.  This time he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and no beanie.  He walked straight towards Geoff.

"What can I do for you?" Geoff asked, sitting up straight and pretending he hadn't been squirming all day long.

"I think it's what I can do for you," Michael said, sitting on the stool in front of Geoff.  "I have a price, a proposition, and I want you to give me a tattoo worthy of it."

"A little backwards, but okay, I'll bite," Geoff shrugged.  "What's the offer?"

"I need you to marry me."

 

Apparently, Geoff can faint.

 

When he came up, Geoff was on the ground, feet elevated and cool rag on his face.  Griffon was kneeling on one side and Michael on the other.

"Marry you?" Geoff spluttered.

"Okay, I don't really need the tattoo, but I do need you," Michael shrugged.  "The family is threatening to cut me from their life unless I settle down with some girl and live the fifties, white-picket fence life.  So I'm hoping to send a big 'fuck you' by way of wedding invitation and, well, you're the opposite of everything they like, which means entirely my type and, well, the others talk about you doing tattoos for favors."

"Others?"

"Yeah, Dooley was talking you up, how you accepted his shitty payment.  Then fucking Lindsay comes waltzing in saying she's taking you to dinner and, well, people talk.  So I thought, fuck it, I've got nothing to lose."

"Listen," Geoff sat up and his head spun, but he didn't lay back down, this was fucking serious.  "You are right up my alley, kid, but I don't do fake relationships.  If you want this wedding invitation, then you're with me for fucking ever.  Got it?  Whole nine-yards.  Sickness or health, richer or poorer, whole shebang."

Michael's cheeks went pink.

"I wouldn't mind that," Michael said.

Geoff smiled.  "Me neither, kid."

 

Months passed.  Geoff had a picture of him and Michael on his table.  Clients stopped offering dates in payment.  Wedding invitations are sent out.  The entire affair was paid almost exclusively from Geoff's tattoo business.  A surprising amount of people were willing to offer their services in exchange for a tattoo apparently.  Michael had dimples when he smiles.  His hair was just as soft as Geoff imagined.  There were freckles over his shoulders and down his back.  He woke up absurdly early and made great coffee.

When they stood together, reciting their vows, Geoff tried to think what tattoo he would have given Michael in exchange for this offer.  Before, he might have tried to offer some meaningful quote to swirl around Michael's ribs.  Or a soft heart, right on the shoulder blade.  But now?  Geoff knew that he picked the perfect tattoo, the perfect price for this miraculous moment.

Inked on Michael's ring finger, underneath the wedding band, the words "I love you" are inscribed.

 


	3. Ryan the Bloodsucking Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 500 years of being a vampire and Ryan was still a sucker for love stories.
> 
> AH OT6 Vampire!Ryan AU

Blood.  Life of the human race.  Comprised of plasma, red blood cells, and other formed elements.  It supplies a human body with oxygen and nutrients, removes waste, and regulates body temperature and pH.  It carries the immune system, stops bleeding, and acts as a messenger for hormones in the human body.  The blood vessels rush through a human body with every heartbeat like a torrential river.  Losing 40% leads to death.  It has well earned the title Lifeblood.

But by God it tasted like shit.

Though that might be boiled down to Ryan's particular victim of the night.  Middle aged and balding, Ryan picked up this guy ambling home from a bar and he  _reeked_.  Stale booze, vomit, and piss seemed to emanate from the man's skin, pervading the air in the darkened alley as Ryan choked down the blood.

It had been stupid to wait this long to feed and Ryan had no excuse.  He wasn't a newly turned fledgling with delusions of normality.  He had been in this game long enough to know there was no turning back.  It was either move forward or die.

Sated, belly full and sloshing, Ryan dropped the dead man onto the ground, completely drained.  Wiping his face clean, Ryan stepped out of the alley, glasses crunching beneath his sneakers.  He would have to move tomorrow.  This was his third body this month.  The cops were dumb, but not that dumb and Ryan was being careless.  He didn't have to drink fresh blood, despite the urban legends that said otherwise.  But the banks had been dry and Ryan had no choice.

Tomorrow he would move, leave this town and find somewhere else.

Through a series of bizarre events, Ryan ended up in Austin, Texas.  Rooster Teeth needed another animator and achievement hunter and, well, Ryan fit the bill.  He moved to a new apartment, got to work, and seemed to fit seamlessly into the bustling life of the Rooster Teeth office.

He found a bank within days to raid and filled up his fridge with donor bags.  It would be really bad if Ryan ended up killing another half dozen citizens in his hunger.  He was enjoying life in Austin and he couldn't afford losing it.

The strangest thing was finding friends.

Ryan has been alive a very, very long time.  He had seen friends come and go with the passing of centuries.  He once belonged to a coven.  Bad, bad memories, but Ryan was lonely and desperate for company, even if it meant murdering innocent families.

But that was centuries ago.  This was different.

This was Geoff's infections laughter and insane schemes.  This was Jack's booming voice and gentle hugs.  This was Gavin's screeching and brilliant brain.  This was Ray's quick wit and even quicker smile.  This was Michael's burning rage and fiery passion.  These men became his friends and Ryan was floored.

"Dinner at Ryan's!" Geoff crowed, throwing his arm over Ryan's shoulder as they left the office.

"Sorry, what?" Ryan balked.

"Last weekend we were at Jack's," Michael reminded him.  "It's your turn to host."

Ryan's mind flashed to his apartment.  The empty fridge and cabinets.  The single glass for feeding.  He never had to entertain humans before and he wasn't ready to start now.

"No, no," Ryan stammered.  "I just - fuck - not today guys."

"C'mon, Rye-bread," Michael punched him in the shoulder.  "You've been here for fucking months, it's time to see your place."

"I'm just not, um, prepared," Ryan hedged.

Ray laughed and practically shoved Ryan toward's Geoff's car.  "No one ever is."

All Ryan could think of was someone (Geoff probably) opening his fridge and seeing bags and bags of blood plasma.  There were already enough Ryan the Murder Guy jokes in the office without him adding to it.

In the five months since he moved here, Ryan had a good thing going and he wasn't going to ruin it because he wasn't exactly human.  But the boys were piling into Geoff's car, dragging Ryan in behind and Ryan's instincts just snapped into action.

He pushed past Ray, practically flinging the poor lad across the parking lot.  He heard Michael shouting and Gavin squawking.  Geoff swore as Jack ran to pick up Ray.  Ryan turned around and ran to his apartment.  He didn't bother slowing down to an acceptable human speed.  At this point, the guys probably knew.

Fucking shit.  Ryan would have to move or come up with some excuse.  Fuck!  This is why he didn't really make friends with mortals.  Too weak and narrow-minded to understand exactly who he was and what he did.

Well, other than the few murders.  A man's gotta eat, okay?

Bursting through his apartment door, Ryan went through everything he would have to pack to leave town.  He could send Matt an email in the morning, bullshit some reason for leaving at the drop of a hat.  He could take a few plasma bags with him, take the rest back to the bank.  Anything he couldn't carry would have to stay, of course.  Maybe Ryan could go north.  Montana seemed a pretty decent place.

Ryan moved in an instant, using all his vampire speed to his advantage.  Grabbing his backpack, he ran to his bedroom, stuffing it with a few shirts, spare pants and underwear.  He sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed a few plasma blags and stuffed them into the bag as well.

His cell phone was in his pocket, phone charger in the bag.  The games would have to stay, Ryan realized with a pang.  He sat on his couch and tried to remember everything about vampire hunters he had learned over his lifetime.

Over the years, many vampire myths had been debunked.  Hunters knew that holy water and crucifixes were remnants of the romantic past, as was garlic and stakes to the heart.  They realized, however, that beheading was a good choice for vampires.

Ryan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.  He hadn't encountered hunters in almost fifty years.  He was out of practice avoiding them.  And if there was a state that would house hunters, it would be Texas.

Fuck.

The door slammed open and the other achievement hunters were in his door.

"Ryan, what the fuck?" Geoff demanded.  "What's with the bag?  Is that fucking plasma?"

"I... listen," Ryan stood up, dropping his bag.  Clothes and plasma falling out.

Gavin lifted up a plasma bag, holding it gingerly in his hand, like he was afraid it would explode in his hand.

"Ryan...?"

There was an open window in his bedroom.  A two story fall would hurt his ankle at best, break his leg at worse.  He could run for a mile before his healing kicked in, then run to the airport and fly... somewhere.

But the five men at his door, these five friends, would be worth a chance to try.

"I'm a vampire."

The story came out slowly.  Geoff insisted halfway they needed alcohol and sent Michael to buy a few bottles of whiskey.  Then the six of them sat in Ryan's little apartment, knees touching as they were cross-legged on the floor, almost all nursing a glass of alcohol while Ryan sucked plasma from the pouch (and hadn't that been an argument and a half to get Ryan even remotely comfortable to drink in front of them).

So he told them from the beginning, his turning in mid-1500's and his life since then.  Being hunted most of his life and learning what it meant to be a vampire.  He tried to avoid talking about the murders, about the coven, but everything else he laid bare.

This is when Ryan usually had to run.

When he was a fresh vampire, he did this whole thing.  He explained everything to this woman and she stabbed him with the table leg.  He tried again, decades later, and got shot in the head for his efforts.  Every time Ryan let out the truth, it went bad.  But a dumb, stupid hope flickered in his dead chest thinking maybe this was different.

"But, wait," Gavin said and Ryan knew it was going to be a dumb question.  "Why are you drinking plasma?  Don't you need blood?"

Of all the dumb questions Gavin could have asked, this is the last one Ryan expected.

"Um, well, plasma has all the nutrients in blood," Ryan said.  "White blood cells are the immune system and red blood cells carry oxygen, so all I need is plasma.  I don't need as much plasma as I would blood so it's safer and easier."

"Wow, Ryan," Geoff tipped back his drink.  "Way to take being a bloodthirsty creature of the night and make it as geeky as dicks."

"No... running?" Ryan hazard a small guess, a tiny glimmer of hope.  "Screaming?  Any of that?"

"Why?" Jack asked.  "You never ate us."

"I'm a vampire," Ryan deadpanned, wondering if his friends were being deliberately stupid.  "I am a dead man, reborn to drink blood to survive.  There are hundreds of legends about me and you are just okay with this?"

Ray reached out, resting a hand on Ryan's knee.  "You're still Ryan."

And that was that.

Months passed.  Ryan was still a vampire but with friends beside him.  So often Ryan would come home with one of the guys, talking the day over a couple of pouches and dinner.  Geoff took to storing plasma in the office fridge and Jack kept ignorant questioners at bay.  Gavin wouldn't stop asking questions about his life and the centuries in Ryan's past.  Michael brought in more Ryan jokes and Ray seemed to always know when Ryan needed a break.

Ryan started buying food again for when the boys came over.  He kept dishes and silverware and suddenly, achingly, felt human again.

It was an easy system they had but Ryan had lived for centuries and knew better.

He knew what feelings were blossoming in his chest and he knew what it felt like to hide them.  The best thing Ryan could do was wait until it was time.

Time apparently being when Michael got cornered by a couple of muggers.

Ryan hadn't felt bloodlust since he was a child.  He picked up those muggers by the throat and flung them across the street.  There was a sick thud as one crashed into a brick wall, falling limp onto the ground.  The other smashed through the glass of a store front.

But Ryan wasn't happy with that.  These men were going to kill Michael and Ryan could not stand for that.  Michael was under his protection, along with the rest of the guys.  Ryan would have his head taken off before letting anything bad happen to them.

Growling, Ryan felt his teeth lengthen into fangs as he stormed to the two muggers on the ground.  He could hear their heart beat echoing in his ears, strong and frightened, blood coursing through the veins.

Ryan only needed the plasma, but he could drink the rest of the blood too.  Sucking out the lifeblood of these damn fools would be a pleasure.  He grabbed the first mugger from his crumpled heap on the ground and lifted him up.

Without thinking, Ryan yanked the man's head back and sunk his teeth into his neck.  Hot blood gushed over his mouth and he drank deeply.  Much better than the last blood he drank; this one was hot and sweet with adrenaline and Ryan couldn't get enough of it.

Someone yanked on his arm and Ryan turned, growl in his throat.  Michael was standing there, white as a sheet.  "Ryan?" he whispered.

Vaguely, Ryan realized what he had just done.  He slowly licked the lips and dropped the dying man on the ground.

"We have to go," Ryan said, stopping to break the other muggers neck.  "Before someone notices."

Nodding, Michael followed Ryan to the apartment.  As soon as the door shut, it seemed whatever was holding Michael quiet broke free.

"Okay, what the fuck," Michael snapped as Ryan went to the kitchen.  "What the actual fucking fuck?!"

"I told you I was a vampire," Ryan muttered, washing his face in the sink, scrubbing the crusty blood off his chin.

"Okay, but you were dorky Ryan who winces at the taste of warm plasma," Michael said.  "Not this... fucking monster who ate a guy's neck out!"

Ryan slammed the faucet off and jumped in front of Michael.  Anger boiled hot underneath his skin.  He thought maybe things were different with these boys but apparently not and Ryan should have known better.  Over five hundred years and he was still holding hope for a love story or some shit like that.  Fucking, third times the charm or something.  Or maybe Twilight did more of a number on him than he thought (which is a whole different level of low that Ryan refused to dwell on).

"Fuck you, Michael," Ryan snapped.  "Get out of my apartment and go fuck yourself."

"No, not until we talk about this," Michael said, folding his arms and planting himself firmly into Ryan's kitchen.

"Do you want me to fucking apologize for saving your life?" Ryan asked.  "Is that it?  Because I'm not sorry.  I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Just tell me why, Ryan," Michael said.  "Tell me why."

And maybe Ryan was a sucker for love stories, for those stupid ass moments in rom coms that never actually happened in real life.  Wasn't that his problem?  Confessing his life, his love, twice before and getting hurt over it?  Trying to find comfort and companionship in a blood thirsty coven?  Hadn't that all been a way for Ryan to try and find his own, sad, little love story?

As much as he was a sucker for love stories, he was an even bigger sucker for Michael Jones.

"Because I fucking love you and I don't want to see you hurt," Ryan said, impressed that his voice didn't crack.  "Not you, not Jack, not Gavin, not Ray, not Geoff.  And I'm - fuck - I'm sorry that you had to see that but I'm not sorry I did it."

Michael leaned up and caught Ryan's mouth in a kiss.

"Welcome to the club, idiot," Michael whispered.  "Also, you taste disgusting.  No kissing after feeding."

And it really was that easy.

 

"Ryan.  Do you think you can lift a car?"

Ryan turned to face Gavin on the bed.  He was on the brink of falling asleep, eyes fluttering shut with Jack snoring behind him.

"Why?"

"I dunno," Gavin yawned.  "In case we need to."

"Try not to get the car stuck in any weird places and I think we'll be fine," Ryan smiled.  "Go to sleep.  You're only mortal."

 

"Ryan, have you even drank animal blood?"

"Yes, once."

"And what happened?"

"I was violently ill for the next week.  Then again, it was a rat during the first world war, so that might have had something to do with it-"

"Whoa, hold up," Geoff interrupted.  "You were in World War One?  Which side?"

"I was in Italy at the time," Ryan shrugged.  "And as far as wars go, that one sucked dick."

 

"Ryan, could you rip a log in half like Captain America?" Ray asked one night.

"Probably."

Wrong answer.  Ryan was bundled up in the car with Jack and Ray determined to prove the fact true or not.  Discovered that yes, Ryan could rip a log in half.  In fact, he could rip a tree out of the ground.

 

"Ryan, what does blood taste like?"

He looked up from where he was wrapping gauze on Geoff's arm where he nicked himself cooking.  Geoff's eyes were clear and his face set.  Serious then, not like when Gavin asked the same question three months ago and Ryan just laughed him off.

"Depends on the person, really," Ryan said, taping the gauze and pressing a soft kiss to the wound, the smell of Geoff's blood faint underneath the scent of sterilization.  "The last guy I drank from was a mugger, like, four years ago?  He was sweet tasting.  Before that was a homeless guy.  Less tasty."

Ryan stood up, repacked the first aid kit and tucked it under the bathroom sink.  He turned the faucet on but before he could wash the blood off, Geoff grabbed him.

"What would I taste like?"

Warning signs flashed to life in Ryan's mind.  He couldn't lie and say that he hadn't been thinking about it, that he couldn't smell their blood like perfume, that sometimes during sex he had to hold back from sinking his teeth into their soft flesh and taste their blood.  But he always held back.  It would only take one slip for everything Ryan worked for to fall into ruin.

"Geoff, please," Ryan pulled his hands free.  "I'm doing this to protect you."

"Five years, Ryan," Geoff countered.  "We've been together for five years and I trust you.  Fuck, we trust you.  Trust us."

And before Ryan could protest, Geoff was tearing off his bandage.  There was a brief flash of anger because, c'mon, Ryan  _just_ did that, but it was quickly overcome by the smell of Geoff's blood.  The cut wasn't that deep and it was already beginning to clot, but Ryan could smell it, could hear Geoff's steadily increasing heartbeat.  His fangs came out and he grabbed Geoff's arm, pulling it close and sealing his lips over the cut.

 

"Ryan, how do you turn someone?"

"Just like the legends say," Ryan said stiffly.  "You have to be drunk dry then drink vampire blood."

"Does it hurt?" Gavin asked.

"Not a bit."

"Have you done it?"

Ryan closed the refrigerator door, "Once."

 

"Ryan, how many people have you killed?"

"Too many to count."

 

"Ryan, if I was dying, would you turn me?"

 

Ten years passed.  Each question getting more and more desperate as they showed signs of aging while Ryan remained the same.  The laugh lines of Geoff's face getting a little deeper each year.  Jack's hair thinning more and more.  Michael's eyesight failing.  Ray's boyish cheeks growing leaner.  Gavin finding a few gray hairs every morning.  And Ryan, still the young, golden god that walked into the Rooster Teeth studio so many years ago.

It was getting to them, Ryan knew.  Their mortality being flung into their faces while Ryan stayed the same.  He would be alive, continuing on, while they died.  It was a harsh reality that was slowly tearing them apart.

"Okay," Ryan gathered them all up to the living room.  "Okay, once in a lifetime opportunity here.  I have never offered this to anyone, ever.  This is literally my life on the line, and yours too.  But, if you want, all of you, I will turn each one of you.  We would have to leave Austin, fuck, leave Texas, but we'd be together forever.  And, well, I'm willing to do that.  To teach five fledgling vampires how to survive, as long as it's you."

Gavin, lovely, curious, faithful Gavin, stood up first, Michael right beside him.  Geoff groaned, stood up and helped Jack up next.  Finally came Ray, his heart rate speeding up, but his face determined.

"Let's do it," Ray nodded.

They had to do it one at a time, down in the basement where they couldn't escape.  Maybe Ryan had been thinking of this moment, years ago, when he and Geoff bought the house.  And so, one by one, Ryan killed his lovers, dribbling his own blood down their throats.

It could have been hours, it could have been days, however long it took for the change to take hold.  Ryan thought of where they could go.  Montana crossed his mind again, followed by a different thought.  A new island found off the coast of California, a city built to rival the likes of L.A. that run rampant with crime.

And suddenly, the feral rush that Ryan kept hidden wanted to come out.  The evil, the ferocity, the bloodlust came rushing up in Ryan's being.  The vampire within him came lurching forward after over 500 years of lying dormant and it wanted to fight, to feed.  And his boys (his darling boys) would be newly turned, prone to fits of violence and murder.

The boys slowly blinked awake, eyes ringed with red, mouth filled with fangs.

"My dear, beautiful boys," Ryan cooed, stepping up to each of them, pressing a soft kiss to their mouths.  "We're going to Los Santos." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, that went dark, sorry?
> 
> Might write a little sequel of Ryan and his boys starting up the Fake AH Crew as vampires. Dunno yet.


	4. The Mighty Fall (In Love)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a saying; "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."
> 
> Ryan, biggest and baddest of Los Santos, wasn't one to believe in superstition or legends or myths. He was the motherfucking Goliath of this city and there had been no David in sight for years to challenge him.
> 
> So yeah, he was the biggest and he wasn't planning on falling any time soon. But when you run the entirety of Los Santos, fate tends to fuck with you.
> 
> Ray/Ryan GTA AU with background Michael/Geoff, Jack/Gavin, Matt/Jeremy, Lindsay/Barbara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Fall Out Boy has been inspiring me to a stupid amount. Their two recent albums - Save Rock And Roll and American Beauty/American Psycho have been especially inspiring for AH things.
> 
> There will probably be more.
> 
> I'm thinking about making a Tumblr for requests and cross posting if anyone is interested in that :)

Ryan Haywood.  The Mad King.  Vagabond.  Skeletor.  Fancy titles, to be sure, but none of them encompassed the full scope of exactly who he was in this city.  He was more than mad, more than some lonesome wanderer, and much more than his mask.  He was self proclaimed ruler of Los Santos.  He was the top of the pecking order and he was there to stay.

Sure, he had his underlings.  There was Geoff, Ryan's leader of the drug rings.  There was Jack, the head of Ryan's large fleet of vehicles.  He had Gavin, expert hacker, and Michael, the best weapons dealer in the country.  Between the five of them (and the absolute unwavering loyalty) they owned Los Santos.  There was nothing better for Ryan than to sit in his penthouse, drinking Diet Coke, and observing his city.

"You know what's going to happen, right?" Jack said.  "Your confidence is going to get you killed."

"Please, Jack," Ryan sipped his soda and gestured to the sprawling city.  "This is my domain.  Who would be foolish enough to come against me?"

"Hubris is the destroyer of many tyrants," Jack said gently.  "Just something to think about."

"I'm not too concerned."

Apparently, Ryan should have been concerned.  Gavin came up to him the next day, fingers twitching, telling Ryan there was some sniper on the loose in Los Santos.  Gavin didn't have a clear face or name, but he wasn't on Ryan's side.  Gavin pointed out three recordings of the mysterious sniper taking out Ryan's men.  He was obviously talented, each shot was crisp and clean.  Possibly a hitman at some point.  He was also fast as hell, leaving only a smudge of purple on the recordings.

Ryan sent Geoff to find out more from the gossiping drug rings.  Michael about had a fit when he found out.  ("You can't send him alone to find information on a fucking hitman!  He's gonna get fucking killed!")  Geoff came back in one piece with no information and Michael promptly took him away for a week.

As much as Ryan tried not to meddle in the affairs of his underlings, he couldn't help but notice these relationships.  Seriously.  Ryan would be a piss poor leader if he couldn't see that Michael and Geoff were fucking.  Not to mention Jack and Gavin's constant flirting since the two met.  Then there was Matt and Jeremy (his inside men for the police) and Lindsay and Barbara (his best assassins).

Ryan's entire empire was filled with people pairing off and it was a strange and bizarre thing to witness.  After all, Ryan didn't make it to King of Los Santos with a lover by his side.  If anything, he did the opposite.  He took down the former leaders by exploiting the weak spots of companionship and lovers.  He watched kingpins beg for mercy when Ryan had their wife.  There were heads of recruiting stations willing to give up all their information as long as Ryan gave them back their secret lovers.

Without a lover, Ryan was untouchable.  There was nothing holding him back.  And, despite the fondness he felt for his crew (his family), Ryan knew they had their weaknesses.  He knew that Michael would abandon his post to keep Geoff safe on a dangerous deal.  He knew that Jack had a habit of driving Gavin everywhere instead of letting him drive.  He had seen Geoff take a bullet for Michael, watched Gavin trail Jack on every camera he could hack into.  Lindsay would abandon a hit to save Barb.  Jeremy would extrapolate lies beyond Ryan's necessity to keep Matt out of trouble.

The mighty always fell in love and that was their downfall.

 

The purple sniper didn't resurface for a few months - long enough that Ryan had begun to forget he even existed.  Life as a King went on.  Geoff was negotiating with some new drug cartels that sprung up in the city; Jack was trying to buy a dozen armored cars; Michael was on a hit.  Everything was as it should be for Ryan's kingdom.

Gavin ran into the penthouse clutching a bleeding arm.  Ryan hung up the phone immediately (Kdin could wait) and Jack was instantly by Gavin, laptop still propped open on the coffee table.

"The sniper is back," Gavin gasped.  "He killed Mark right in front of me, nicked my arm too, bastard."

"That fucker," Ryan growled.

"He gave a message too," Gavin winced as he pulled off his shirt at Jack's insistence.  "He said his name was Ray and he wants to talk to you.  Fuck, Jack, don't poke it!  Anyway, Ryan, he said he'd meet you on top of the Maze Bank at sunset."

"Does he have a death wish?" Jack asked, wiping the blood off Gavin's arm.

"Doesn't matter because I'm going," Ryan said, already moving to pack his bag.  He made a mental list of things he would need - weapons, body armor, parachute, so on.  He heard Gavin and Jack protesting behind him.  Something about it being dangerous and how Ryan hadn't shown his face in weeks and was it really the best idea?

"Look, boys," Ryan turned to them, pistol in hand.  "If I don't go out there once in a while, the city forgets who the King is.  This Ray character clearly has no idea what is normal for us, here in Los Santos, and I am going to teach him."

"But Ryan!  What if you die?" Gavin cried out.

"Please," Ryan scoffed, sliding his mask over his face.  "I'm the fucking Mad King."

Michael and Geoff weren't happy with Ryan's decision either.

"Look, man," Geoff said over dinner.  "I get that your fucking King and all that shit, but this is just being practical.  It's obviously going to be a trap or something and this Ray is going to fuck you.  And not the good kind of fucking."

"Geoff's right," Michael muttered around a mouth of fried chicken.  He swallowed and continued, "I mean, at  least have some backup.  You go on and on about being fucking Goliath and hey, maybe this is when David comes and smacks you with a rock."

Ryan lifted his eyebrows.  "Smacks me with a rock?"

"You know," Michael shrugged.  "That fucking story from the Bible?  David and Goliath?  The sling and rock?  Right in Goliath's forehead?  Fucking, aren't you from Georgia?  Don't you know this story?"

"Oh, I know the story," Ryan said.  "I just didn't think  _you_ would know the story."

"Okay, that's not important," Michael swung his drumstick at Ryan threateningly.  "You're the boss of this outfit, but as your weapons dealer, I'm asking you to at least be fucking smart about it.  Dying in an ambush?  Bitch way to go, man."

"I think I can handle myself," Ryan stood up from the table.  "Don't fuck in my bedroom, please.  I gave you guys guest rooms for that specific reason."

"That's okay," Geoff shrugged.  "I think Gav and Jack beat us to your room."

Ryan didn't reply.  He had a murder date on the Maze Bank.

The sunset was quite glorious.  From the top of the bank, Ryan could see the sun setting over the ocean, casting hues of orange and red across the skies.  The clouds were dusky purple and blue and streaked across the sky, creating a massive rainbow effect.  The ocean itself was burning bright as it reflected the sunset.  In the distance, Ryan could barely make out the carnival lights, twinkling along the horizon as the Ferris Wheel rotated.  The sounds of the city were far beneath him and, as the breeze picked up, Ryan felt a strange sense of calm.

He'd been up here many times before, usually before or after heists.  This had been the meeting spot of his crew many times and they've landed more car-go-bobs than Ryan can count up here.  He had base jumped from this rooftop hundreds of times before and, on occasion, jumped onto the roof.  He was intimately familiar with this building and, in a way, it held nostalgia for Ryan.

No better place to meet this infamous sniper.

"You know, you're not as tall as I thought."

The voice was light and slightly teasing.  Already, Ryan wasn't expecting much from this sniper.  He turned around, hand resting on the pistol on his hip.  He caught one look at the sniper and dropped his hands.  He felt his jaw fall slack and couldn't help the small noise that came from his throat.  Because  _fuck_.  There stood a kid who couldn't have been older than Gavin, dressed in a purple sweater with a pink rifle over his shoulder.  His dark hair was squashed underneath a black beanie and his dark eyes were behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses.  His lips were quirked up in a smirk and Ryan's knees went a little weak.

"Don't talk much, huh?" Ray continued.  "That's cool.  I wondered how much it would take to get you out."

Ryan could barely hear the words, his mind going instantly to how soft Ray's voice was.

"You're kind of a legend all over the country," Ray continued.  "Everyone from New York talks about you and, well, I had to see if the legends were remotely true."

"Legends?" Ryan repeated, wondering why his voice was catching in his throat.

"That you're eight feet tall and wear a crown of bones," Ray said.  "That you drink the blood of your enemies and use their skin for clothing.  You have a collection of hair and fingers as a threat to anyone who opposes you.  Sorry, but there's no legends about how fucking gorgeous you are."

"Excuse me?" Oh, god, Ryan might actually faint.  He couldn't exactly breathe and he was trying to memorize the way Ray's hands twisted in the air as he talked.

"You'd think that someone would mention that the Mad King of Los Santos looks like a fucking God," Ray shrugged.  "I mean, shit, I'm no poet but you've got beautiful hair and the whole, broad shoulders to tiny waist ratio.  And your eyes are probably the bluest I've ever seen, even behind the fucking mask.  And, well, I'd be lying if I said I'm not fucking dreaming about how big your biceps are underneath that jacket."

"I - uh," Ryan sputtered.

"It's okay, big guy," Ray shrugged.  "Always next time."

Before Ryan could protest, Ray was jumping off the building.  He ran to the edge just in time to see a rainbow parachute open up beneath him.

 

Someone was talking to him, asking questions about the bank heist they were supposed to be running in a few days.  Geoff answered it smoothly and Ryan made a mental note to give him a bonus for that.  It had been literally two days since he saw Ray and Ryan was fucking losing it.  He wanted to force Gavin to hunt him down and find him.  He wanted to stop all heists until he had Ray beside him again.

He wanted to feel Ray's delicate fingers between his own.  He wanted to tuck Ray underneath his arm and kiss his forehead.  He wanted to see the brown of Ray's eyes, ruffle his hair, suck his neck.

Ryan could admit he was in too deep because he was.  He was in way too fucking deep.  He couldn't explain what was happening to him.  He couldn't begin to understand the queasy feeling in his gut whenever he thought of Ray.  He didn't understand why his knees went weak when he remembered Ray's voice.  He was so confused about why his heart fucking tap danced across his chest every time he saw someone in a purple sweater.

There was one thing that Ryan knew which is that Jack was right.  His confidence screwed him over.  With a single, half-assed, one sided conversation, Ryan had fallen from his domain.  The only way he was getting back to the top was if Ray came back.

"I gotta go," Ryan stood up from the table.  "Uh, Geoff, you lead this one."

He ignored the stares that burned into his back and left the apartment.  Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Ryan walked down the sunny streets of Los Santos, wondering where the fuck Ray was and why the fuck he hadn't come back.  Because, shit, Ryan wanted him back.  He wanted to finish what they started on top of the bank, and more than just sex.  Ryan had had a lot of one night stands and he knew what that felt like and this sure as fuck didn't feel like one.

Ryan wanted more than just to fuck Ray.  He wanted to cuddle and keep and work together.  Just one fuck wouldn't be enough - would never be enough.  Ryan felt a humorless laugh rise up in his chest.  The bigger they are, the harder they fall.  That was his motto as he pulled down bigger and stronger bosses.  Never once, did Ryan believe it would happen to him.  And Ryan could never fathom that it would happen because of a punk sniper in a purple hoodie.

Someone grabbed Ryan and yanked him down an alley.  Without thinking, Ryan pulled out his knife and pressed it to the throat of his attacker.

"Getting hasty for a second date, aren't we?" Ray's eyes were teasing as they stared up at Ryan.

"I didn't get a kiss last time," Ryan reasoned, butterflies scattered in his stomach.  "I think I'm due a little something."

"A kiss it is, then," Ray declared.

Hands were weaving through his hair and Ryan felt himself being pulled down for a hot and heavy kiss.  Ray's fingers were magic against Ryan's skull and he dropped his knife with a clatter.  His own hands he wrapped around Ray's waist and pushed him back against the alley wall.  Ray pulled back with a small laugh and Ryan latched instantly to Ray's pulse point, sucking a deep mark there.

"Oh, how the mighty fall," Ray whispered.  His breath hitched as Ryan gave a soft bite to Ray's neck.

"Fall in love," Ryan whispered against Ray's bruising neck.

"Works for me," Ray grabbed Ryan's face and pulled him back up to kiss.

 

No one questioned when Geoff started leading more heists.  No one nagged Ryan about all his time spent with Ray.  Jack kept his amused smirks to himself (mostly) and Michael became Ray's best friend almost overnight.  Ryan was the biggest, the baddest, and the strongest of all of Los Santos, and he certainly fell the hardest.  He fell so hard he rescinded his throne to Geoff and became nothing more than a simple hitman for the newly instated Fake AH Crew.

The legends of the Mad King of Los Santos kept floating around and there were stories about how Ryan gave up his kingdom for a Rose Queen, the only one who ever stole his heart.  For once, they weren't too far from the truth; Ryan would gladly give up his kingdom ten times over to keep Ray by his side.


	5. Not Just A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Gavin confessed to Michael that he was an Assassin and that the Templars were real, Michael laughed his ass off. He didn't expect Gavin to drag him down into the sewers (which were off limits!) to an actual, full fledged, honest to god, Assassin Den. And he definitely didn't think he was going to meet an asshole who charmed the fuck out of him.
> 
> Michael/Ryan Assassins Creed AU (side pairings: Geoff/Gavin and Jack/Ray)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I toyed with making this an actual fic, but I can't quite put all the pieces together, so it'll remain a drabble.

"Okay, I admit it, I'm impressed."

Michael was more than impressed but Gavin didn't need this ego inflated any bigger than it already was.  Deep beneath Achievement City, hidden in the sewers, was the Assassin Order.  Gavin had led Michael through miles of tunnels, ankle deep in sewage as they crept between bars and underneath of grates.  The path ended at a huge, ornate door, that swung open gently when Gavin pushed it.

Which is where they were now.  The door opened to a huge room made of clear-cut marble.  Lanterns hung from the walls, giving a soft glow to the entire room.  Bookshelves lined every spare bit of wall and there were at least three doors leading out.  It was clean and cool and Michael felt something heavy in the air as he followed Gavin to the center of the room.

"This is the center of the Order," Gavin cheerfully explained.  "We have a few buildings topside where we train and live, but this is where the Order thrives.  This is where we bring initiates, have debates, plan our next move, and all that shit."

A man swept in through a side door.  He was tall with dark hair and blue-gray eyes.  He walked confidently, dressed in a casual t-shirt with a leather vest, and was talking to another man - tall and thick with a gingery-red beard.  As soon as the stepped into the room, Gavin let out a squeal and vanished from Michael's side.  Gavin ran up to the first man and flung his arms around him.

Michael flushed as they kissed and looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.  The floor was made of the same marble as the walls and the Assassin's symbol was etched onto the floor.  He still couldn't quite believe it was real;  Assassins and Templars fighting in the world, Abstergo Industries making claims for power.  All of it was real.

"-and this is my friend, Michael!"

Michael glanced up to see that Gavin had stepped back towards him (hands linked with the stranger).  Michael gave a small wave, suddenly aware of his scuffed sneakers, torn jeans, and ratty band shirt.  The stranger looked him up and down with half-lidded eyes and a smirk.

"So why'd you bring him here?" the man asked Gavin.  "You only ever bring recruits."

Gavin flushed.  "Well, why not?  Need more people and he's a fast learner."

"Excuse me?" Michael balked at Gavin.  "Recruit?  What the hell, man?  You brought me down here to be a fucking Assassin?  I didn't even believe it was real until like, five minutes ago!  I don't even know who the fuck you are!"

"Sorry," the stranger detached his hand from Gavin's.  "I'm Geoff Ramsey, the Grand Master of this particular Den.  Gavin's right, you know, we do need more people.  Gavin, take him to Ryan."

"What?  Ryan?" Michael's question fell on deaf ears as Gavin kissed Geoff's cheek and took Michael by the wrist, dragging him away.  "Gavin, I swear to fucking god if you don't explain yourself then I'm going to fucking tear you a new one!"

"Oh, I'm not allowed to," Gavin said, pushing through the door in the back.  "But Ryan can.  His job is to help recruits and stuff."

Michael yanked his hand free and stopped in his tracks.  "No, Gavin.  You fucking explain why you brought me here, now.  Was I really just a recruit for you?  Fucking hell, dude!  Did you just pretend to be my friend to get me to join this fucking Order?"

Gavin looked stricken.  He rushed to Michael, grabbing both his hands up.  "No!  No, Michael!  You're my friend, my boi!  But I'm an Assassin and I just - I didn't want to keep this from you.  Besides," Gavin gave a soft smile, "I think you'll be great."

Michael felt his anger melt away.  "Really?"

"Yeah," Gavin grinned.  "So, Ryan?"

Ryan, it turned out, lived deep in the sewer system.  He had a tiny office that was crammed with a desk, filing cabinets, and piles upon piles of books.  He, for the most part, was fairly average looking.  Tall with thick shoulders and light brown hair, Ryan dressed the same as any other Assassin Michael had come across - leathers and lots of pockets, a chic and modern look that complimented him well.

He glanced up when they entered and Michael felt his heart swoop.  Ryan's face was soft around the edges, with brilliant blue eyes and a heavy layer of scruff.  He smiled, charmingly, and Gavin beamed back.

"This is Michael," Gavin said.  "He's my best friend and newest recruit!"

Ryan chuckled, deep in his throat, and Michael's tummy flipped.  Oh fuck.

 

Michael joined the Order almost instantly.  It was hard not to when he was busy staring at Ryan's pink lips forming words and listening to the deep, rumbling voice.  Training, however, was the worst thing ever.

Achievement City, built right on the ocean side, was one of the last cities to fall underneath Abstergo rule (not that anyone knew it was the Templars taking over at the time).  The world was held in a carefully constructed Iron Fist of oppression.  No one spoke against the government.  No one did anything out of the ordinary.  There were rules and regulations that were expected to be followed at all times.

All community gatherings were to be approved by the law.  Any new buildings or businesses had to allow for police inspection three times a year.  The sewers were strictly off limits to all.  There were check-in stations at every building, even homes, to keep tabs on where everyone was at every time of day.

The Assassins, while unable to completely override the Abstergo system, had found plenty of loopholes to keep them safe.  One of which was to practice Free Running at night.

Michael swore as he tripped on an uneven shingle.  He landed flat on his face and slid down the roof.  Ryan grabbed his ankle and yanked him to a stop.  Michael's eyes peered over the rain gutter into the street below - almost three stories down - a fall that would have killed him.

"If you could kindly watch where you were running," Ryan said as Michael pushed himself up.

"It's fucking hard in the dark, okay?" Michael groused.

"You need to learn how to respond to trips," Ryan said.  "Push yourself forward, roll through it."

Michael groaned as Ryan sprinted off to another rooftop, leaving Michael in the dark.

 

There were a lot more Assassins than Michael realized at first.  It took almost a week before he met Jack (officially at least, he was the bearded guy with Geoff) and Ray.  They were a package deal and wore matching wedding rings even though the Templars wouldn't allow their marriage to be recognized legally.  Ray had become Michael's chief trainer in stealth.

The first time he saw a hidden blade, Michael almost creamed his pants.

"Pretty sweet, am I right?" Ray grinned as he turned his wrist in the light.  "I almost fainted when Jack showed me."

"It's just... so weird," Michael confessed.  "I mean, I played the whole series of games and fucking loved it.  I just didn't think it was real."

"I know, right?" Ray replied emphatically.  "Jesus, when I found the Order, I was just a punk that Ryan dragged in from the juvie center.  I played the games and when they told me it was all real, I dunno, man.  Something just clicked for me.  It all made sense, you know?  The best way to disprove your enemy is to make it seem like it's only fiction.  If no one believes in the Templars and the Assassins, then no one is going to rise up and fight back."

Ray was like that all the time - full of bizarre nuggets of wisdom wrapped in a sarcastic shell.  He was also brutal as fuck.  Michael was sore in places he didn't think existed after a workout with Ray.  They spent their training hours above ground, tailing people and moving silently through huge crowds of people.  Michael quickly learned how to use his face to his advantage.  If he looked like a street urchin kid, then no one paid any attention to him.

Often Jack would join them as they tailed targets and eavesdropped on conversations.  He and Ray flirted casually, as married couples do, but never kept Michael from the loop.  Jack was a gentle giant, armed to the teeth with various weapons, and had a voice eerily similar to Ryan's.  Which sometimes led to awkward moments in the field - when Jack's soft mumbling words to Ray translated to Ryan's voice in Michael's head.

 

His first kill was a young, Templar woman.  Michael waited patiently in the alley and snapped his hand out, dragging her to his chest and stabbing her in the throat with his shiny, new blade.  Ryan stood over him, nodding in approval.  Michael felt pride blossom in his chest and grinned at Ryan.

"Congratulations," Ryan said, slowly clapping as the Templar choked on her own blood.  "First kill warrants a celebration."

Celebration meaning the two of them getting completely smashed, black out drunk.

Michael woke up with a massive headache in his bedroom.  When he joined up with the Assassins, Geoff sent him up to live in the recruit house.  It was actually an apartment complex redesigned to act like a massive dormitory.  Michael shared his little apartment with Gavin, even though Gavin was literally never home.

A cup of cold water and bottle of aspirin was on his bedside along with a note in Gavin's scrawling handwriting.

_Had a fun night with Ryan, eh?  Geoff says day off for you.  I'll send up Ray to check on you around lunch time.  -Gavvers_

Well, wasn't that fucking sweet.  Michael smiled softly and took a careful drink of water.  He downed a couple of pills and rubbed his forehead.  It was almost noon and Michael pushed himself out of bed and into the shower.

He tried to remember the night before, but all he could remember was Ryan taking him to bar after bar, a brief run from the police, and not much else.  He doesn't remember coming home, and certainly doesn't know what the fuck he did with Ryan.

Brief, sudden panic gripped Michael.  He was training under the Assassin Order, learning how to destroy the Templars (who have taken over the world) and just completed his first assassination, but was petrified that in his drunken stupor he confessed his big fucking crush.

Dressed in a pair of shorts and toweling his hair, Michael wandered through the kitchen.  Sometimes, Jack dropped off food at their place to make sure they weren't starving themselves.  Michael rifled through the cupboards and emerged with a box of Cheez Its and a can of Red Bull.  He was a victim of Hangover Munchies.  While Gavin needed silence and Jack needed hydration, Michael needed to snack.

The front door opened and Michael shouted through a mouthful of crackers, "Gav!  We need more bagel bites!"

He was answered with a familiar, deep chuckle and Michael's blood ran cold.

"I'll pass the message along," Ryan said, shutting the door behind him.

Michael dropped his box and Cheez Its flew out the top.  Ryan looked fucking gorgeous, as always, in a soft t-shirt and pale, worn jeans.  His dual hidden blades were glinting on his wrists and Michael swallowed thickly.

"I'm surprised you're even up," Ryan mentioned, picking up the box and placing it on the table.  He was stood right next to Michael, close enough to feel his body heat.  "Gavin said you were fucked to hell."

"What about your hangover?" Michael accused.

Ryan chuckled.  "I wasn't as drunk as you, novice."

"I'm not a novice anymore!" Michael protested.  "I completed my job.  I got my target without any witnesses!"

"Indeed," Ryan nodded, smirk still on his face.

"You're the one who fucking took me out and got me drunk as shit!  I don't even fucking remember anything!"

Ryan raised his eyebrows then.  He reached out and put his hands gently on Michael's bare shoulders.  Michael gasped and shivered at the feel of Ryan's rough, calloused hands.  Ryan's eyes were soft as he looked at Michael.

"You are brilliant," Ryan said.  "One of my best students.  Jack and Ray have sung your praises in their missions.  Geoff says you've excelled in historical studies and now you've done your first mission."

Michael flushed and felt it spread from his face to his chest, nothing to hide it.

"I don't - " Michael stuttered.

"You have been a shining, gorgeous example of the Brotherhood," Ryan said, his hands trailing up Michael's arms and cradling his neck.  "I have been honored to train you for this past weeks."

Michael had a serious kink for praise and hearing it from Ryan left him flushed and shivering.  He closed his eyes at the feeling of Ryan's thumb rubbing over his pulse point.

"Ry-yan," Michael whined.  He reached up and clutched at Ryan's hips.

"Now, now, Michael," Ryan teased.  "Don't be greedy, Michael.  I think I gave you enough last night."

"But I don't fucking remember," Michael insisted.  "C'mon, Rye.  Don't let me stew in sexual tension for the rest of my life here.  Between fucking Married Couple Jack and Ray and, goddamn Geoff and Gavin humping each other at every chance, I'm drowning in it!"

Ryan laughed and bent down, resting their foreheads together.  "Nothing happened last night, Michael.  Not for lack of trying on your part."

"Then let's do something now!" Michael insisted, trying desperately to lean up and catch Ryan's lips with his.

"I would love to, my little novice," Ryan cupped Michael's cheek.  "But I have a mission in Slo-Mo Ville tonight.  I won't be back for a few weeks."

Michael pouted.  "Fuck that.  Stay here."

"Another day," Ryan said, pressing a soft kiss to Michael's throat.

 

Ryan left and Michael about lost it for those few weeks.  He had nothing to remember Ryan by except for a brief conversation and small kiss.  Weeks, almost months, he'd been stewing in his sexual tension for Ryan and it was all gone within seconds.  Michael stewed in misery waiting for Ryan.

"This fucking sucks," Michael groaned to Ray during dinner.  "How do you manage when Jack leaves?"

"I trust my husband," Ray said simply.  "He is a Master Assassin and I know he can take care of himself.  It's hard, yeah, knowing he could be in danger and I'm not there, but that's just part of our lives."

"At least you two are actually together," Michael sighed.

He took every assassination he could.  Michael spent his days on missions and his nights in training.  Anything to keep him from thinking about Ryan far away from Achievement City, in the hands of the Templars.  He lived on microwaved dinners and caffeinated drinks.

Geoff tried to keep him updated on Ryan's position, what he was doing and the dangers of his mission.  All that did was give Michael worse nightmares than before.

It was almost a month later when Ryan came slinking back into the Assassin Den.  Michael had ascended up the ranks and was due for his Assassin Initiation in couple of weeks.  He was with Gavin in the Den, discussing plans for the upcoming election and how to rig it.

The door slid open and in came Ryan, ragged and worn, but alive.  A hush fell over the Den as the Assassins held their collective breaths.  Michael stared and gasped.  A small smile graced Ryan's lips and Michael took an aborted step forward.

"Grand Master," Ryan greeted Geoff, bowing his head.  "The mission was a success.  Edgar has been dethroned and Slo-Mo Ville is free from Templar tyranny."

Michael heard enough.  Ryan's mission was a success, he gave his statement to Geoff, and he was free.  Michael ran across the marble floor and jumped into Ryan's waiting arms.

"You fucking idiot!" he said.  "Don't fucking scare me like that!"

"Missed you too, Michael," Ryan said.

Pulling back, Michael cupped Ryan's face and brought their mouths together.  Ryan opened his mouth instantly and Michael didn't hesitate to slid his tongue in.  It was slick, languid, and perfect.  Fucking everything Michael had wanted since he saw Ryan's charming face months ago.

"Okay, fucking break it up!" Geoff laughed.  "Ryan, report in tomorrow, take the rest of the day off.  Michael, you too."

Michael grinned, grabbed Ryan's hands, and dragged him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, wanted to finish this even though my brain kinda stopped functioning?
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to write more about the backstory and the world and stuff, but really I just needed Michael and Ryan to hook up and be done.


	6. Sniper Spoole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how Spoole, the baby of the Funhaus Crew, became their resident sniper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently got obsessed with Funhaus. Came up with a couple of GTA AUs with AH and FH so that'll start happening.
> 
> No ships. The beginnings of the badass version of the Funhaus Crew.

There were clear cut positions for everyone in the Funhaus Crew.   It hadn't started that way, back when they were just a collection of criminals trying to stay alive in a city of sharks.  Over time, it became quite clear that some of them excelled at various jobs more than others.

Adam Kovic became the heist planner instantly.  He had a knack for planning escape routes, avoiding cops, and creating high stakes, high rewards heists.  He could cause chaos while keeping his boys safe and sound.  He was, however, fucking horrid at negotiation.  Adam had too much sarcasm and painful wit to charm others.

Which is where Joel Rubin came in.  He would dress in a suit, put on a smile, and charm others to working with them.  With twisted words and a flick of a wrist, drug dealers agreed to work underneath of Funhaus and weapons came cheaper and the crooked cops turned a blind eye.  Joel became the face of the crew, the one other sought for an audience with the crew.

Lawrence Sonntag had slowly developed a personality aside from his quiet, computing self.  He was the Funhaus hacker from day one, being literally the only one who know fuck all about hacking.  But as time went on and as heists got more dangerous, Lawrence, for lack of a better word, fucking cracked.  One day everything was fine, the next, Lawrence grabbed a rifle and went on a goddamn killing spree.  He came back, quiet and covered in blood, and overnight, became the Funhaus secret weapon.

Right after Matt Peake, of course.  Where Joel relied on charm to help the crew, Matt thrived in stealth.  Silent and unassuming, Matt was their spy and thief.  He would break into high profile homes, stealing million dollar documents.  He'd sit in the police station, gathering intel.  He was, by far, the biggest, most secret weapon the crew had.

Bruce Greene and James Willems were an evil tag team of weapons and explosives.  They oversaw every weapons purchase, hand crafted almost all their explosives, and caused chaos in every sense of the word.  James got Joel a silver, pearl plated handgun when he complained about handsy kingpins.  Bruce sent for a rocket launcher for Lawrence.  Together, they jokingly created James Bond spy weapons for Matt (which he laughed off).

Then there was Sean Poole.  Little Spoole who was, under no circumstances, allowed to go into the field.  His job, by a massive, six-way agreement, was to stay in the base and never, ever, get into trouble or danger.  Every crew had a motivation for fighting and Spoole was theirs.  As long as he was safe and protected, the Funhaus crew would be successful.

* * *

Joel came downstairs in his special, good impressions, navy blue suit with a white silk tie wrapped around his neck.  His hair was coiffed to perfection as he snapped the cup of coffee from the table.  Spoole held out a folder that Joel took and swept to the living room.

"Busy day?" Spoole asked.

"Just a bit," Joel shrugged.  "Matt says that a kingpin wants to make a deal with us.  He's pretty powerful and Adam wants to make a good impression, possibly take some territory."

Spoole stepped into the living room and sat gently down next to Joel.  He fumbled with the hems of his sweater sleeves and tried to get a peek at the papers.  "Can I come with you?"

"Absolutely not!" Joel replied instantly, flipping the folder close.  "This isn't like us collecting pay from our people or examining territories, this is a serious meeting with a kingpin and it is  _dangerous_ and I'm not taking you with me."

"But-!"

"No, and that's final."

Spoole pouted and meandered back to the kitchen.  Adam and Joel's house up in the Vinewood hills was beautiful and remote and Spoole was not allowed to leave it.  Bruce and James had an apartment in downtown Los Santos, Lawrence was renting a little flat and Matt was all over the radar, but the house was their center base.

It was gorgeous and, at first, Spoole had been enamored with the four story, open planned, mansion of a house.  He explored the many bedrooms, the parlor, and took an hour long bath in the Jacuzzi within a few days.  But no amount of fun exploring could stop the cabin fever as Spoole watched his friends and crewmates go out on dangerous heists together.

The stairs creaked with weight and Adam wandered into the kitchen in boxers and a t-shirt.  He snagged his own coffee and ruffled Spoole's hair.

"No hat?" Adam mumbled into his mug.

"I just woke up!" Spoole protested.  "Listen, Adam, can I go with Joel?  I promise I'll listen and do whatever he asks!  I won't be a liability!  I swear!"

Adam sighed and set his mug down.  "Spoole, you know why we keep you here.  We need to keep you safe, okay?  None of us want you in danger so you are fucking staying here."

"It's not fair!" Spoole argued.  "C'mon, Adam!  You've sent me with Joel before.  I'm unassuming and easily overlooked and don't you think it'd be good for this fucking kingpin to see that you trust him enough to see me?"

Adam let out a deep heavy sigh.  "Okay.  Okay.  You can go, but fucking take Lawrence with you.  And James and Bruce as back-up.  And Matt and I will keep watch."

"This is a fucking diplomacy mission!" Joel shouted from the living room.  "I can't bring the entire goddamn crew!"

"Just this once, Joel," Adam groaned.  "Fucking, for Spoole, okay?"

Joel let out a long-suffering sigh and walked to the kitchen.  He slammed his mug down in the sink and leveled Spoole with a serious glare.

"You will listen to my every instruction," Joel said.  "Run when I say run, hide when I say hide, and stay the fuck out of any danger."

Spoole nodded frantically, a grin bright on his face.  The only thing he had ever wanted was to be an important part of the crew.  He wanted to be needed and valued like the others.  This was his chance and Spoole was not going to fuck it up.

 

To be fair - Spoole didn't fuck up the deal.  The deal was compromised almost as soon as they stepped into the car lot.  The client brought almost fifteen armed guards and, as soon as they caught sight of Lawrence, backed out of the deal.

Before Spoole had a chance to freak out, bullets were flying and Joel was dragging him down and around a car for cover.  The crew was shouting in the comm units (except for Matt) and Spoole felt panicked adrenaline course through his body.

"Get out of there!" Adam shouted.  "Keep Spoole safe and get out!"

"We're fucking pinned!" Lawrence yelled back.  "James and Bruce, you need to clear a path for us!"

"Bit tricky when they're on the other side of the  _fucking wall_ ," James growled.  "Oh, shit!  Peake!  They're coming in from behind!"

Joel swore viciously underneath his breath.  "Fucking car lot with two entrances and they got us on both of them!"

"Adam and I have the back," Matt said softly through the comm.  "James, you and Bruce concentrate on the front.  The cops should be here within five minutes."

"We'll be out of here by then," Joel insisted.

Glass shattered around them and Joel gave a shout.  Spoole glanced over and saw Joel on the ground, blood pooling around his body.  Lawrence grabbed him and dragged him into cover, hands pressed against the gaping hole in Joel's shoulder.

Everyone went silent for a brief second, then everyone started shouting again.

Spoole, however, heard nothing.  He saw the blood, heard Joel's strangled cry, and saw red.  He didn't hesitate as he picked the gun up from the ground, hot and heavy in his hand.  Ignoring all shouts, he stood up and started firing.

The first body that fell sent a surge of joy through Spoole's body.  The gun kicked against his shoulder and he didn't stop firing until all the bodies were on the ground.  If this was revenge then Spoole could understand why crime rates were so high.

Silence fell suddenly on them and Spoole could feel the eyes staring into his back.  Breathing heavily, he turned around.  Lawrence and Joel were staring at him with eyes wide enough to rival James's and his ear piece only had static.  Adam, James, Bruce, and Matt stepped closer, holding their guns close and staring at Spoole.

"What the fuck was that?" Adam broke the silence.

"Perfect headshots?" Bruce said, gesturing to the bodies on the ground.

"In like, seconds?" James added on.

Spoole shrugged.  "I just - I don't know.  Joel got shot and, I don't know, I got mad."

"Have you ever shot a gun before?" Lawrence asked.

"I hate to interrupt this great discovery," Joel called from the ground.  "But I am  _bleeding_ out right now!  I have been  _shot_ and I need  _attention_.  We can deal with Spoole's superpower later."

 

Joel was fine, although he was rather dramatic about the entire event.  Spoole, on the other hand, was not let off scotch free.  As soon as Joel was given his clean bill of health, Bruce took Spoole out to the gun range with James and began teaching him everything they knew.

"It's not even hard!" Spoole said as he lowered the sniper rifle, three perfect headshots in a row.  "Like, aim and shoot, yeah?"

"Spoole, you haven't missed a single target since we started," James said.  "Only the Brownman is that good and you're acting like it's nothing!"

"Fuck, you know what this means, right?" Bruce said.  "Spoole has to be our sniper."

James groaned.  "Shit, you're right.  Adam is going to hate us."

"Does this mean I can go on heists with you?" Spoole grinned.

Bruce and James shared a long look.

"Yeah, guess so," James shrugged.  "You can tell Adam."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are two types of Funhaus crews in my head. The badass crew, which we see here, and the not so badass crew, which I'll write about later.
> 
> Thanks so much for the support, comments, kudos, subscriptions, etc. They really mean a lot to me and keep me encouraged to continue writing.


	7. Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the grapevine, Geoff Ramsey hears about this new, upcoming crew. He would feel threatened by them, but that implies they're a threat and they are anything but that.
> 
> Besides, his entire crew is falling for each other. Bigger fish to fry, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was badass Funhaus. This one is dorky Funhaus crew (who are still pretty awesome). Because, let's be honest, if you've seen their heist videos, they are pretty ridiculous.
> 
> Funhaus OT7 and Achievement Hunter OT6

The Fake AH Crew was not to be crossed.  It became one of the rules of Los Santos - don't mess with the Fake AH Crew.  The few that tried to rise up ended up destroyed instantly.  Geoff Ramsey was the King of this Castle and the entire city knew it.

Well, apparently not the entire city.

Ryan showed him the video clip of an attempted burglary of one of their favorite gas stations.  It was fairly well executed until the truck jammed into the doorway, blocking two men inside.

"The fuck?" Geoff said.

"Right?" Ryan said.  "I've seen them before, a couple of convenience store robberies, but they've all been like this."

"Stupid?"

"I was going to say lackluster, but sure, stupid," Ryan shrugged.  "Anyway, do you want to take them out?"

Geoff looked at the recording.  There was no audio, but the truck had backed out and the three guys were jumping into the car, driving off with cheers and grins.  Geoff had robbed that store before, the criminals would have ran off with only a few thousand, but they acted like they ran off with millions.

He should take them out, stop this little crew from getting too much notoriety, but, fuck, they reminded Geoff of their little crew when they first started out.  Too much energy, kleptomania acting up, feeling like they were invincible in the face of danger.  When every bill, every bit of cash, felt like hundreds.

They hardly looked dangerous.  They weren't the type of crew building up to take down the Fake AH.  These guys were a crew for the sake of being a crew.

"Nah," Geoff shook his head.  "Keep an eye on them, though. You know, just in case."

Weeks and months went by and the world kept turning.  Geoff negotiated properties, took down a few gangs, and committed a heist or three.  There were close shaves and long nights and hungover mornings.  There were heated stares and flushed faces and pouty lips.  They were creating their empire and nothing stopped them.  Ryan had kept tabs on the new crew and, so far, they hadn't made any claims for power.

They had learned, however, that the crew was calling themselves Funhaus and there was seven of them.  The crew mostly did silly robberies of small shops, shooting flares and rockets at everything they could.  They caused general mayhem and ruckus, but were never a serious threat to Geoff's crew.  They stayed out of the city center for the most part, spending time setting the desert on fire.

Michael had wanted to take them down almost instantly, worried for their standing in the city.  Gavin shot that down quickly, claiming that the Funhaus Crew was just having a good time, not bothering them.  Jack sided with Michael, Ray with Gavin, and Ryan just shrugged and looked to Geoff.  Ultimately, it was Geoff's decision and he decided that they would leave the crew alone.

Unfortunately, leaving a rambunctious, free falling crew without supervision led to chaos in Geoff's city.

Almost eight months after Geoff got his first look at the Funhaus Crew, Michael and Jack came storming up to the penthouse suite, both of them were fuming with anger.  Geoff had seen Michael angry plenty of times but he's never seen Jack furious.  Green eyes were blazing with fire and Geoff felt a twinge of arousal in his gut.

Not the first time he felt it either - but he didn't have time for that.

"What happened now?" Geoff asked.

"One of the fucking Funhaus guys got my hit!" Jack snapped.  "I was driving up to talk to the contact and this flare comes from fucking nowhere and the guy lights up like a damn bonfire."

"Then they swept away in a shitty suburban," Michael concluded, putting a soft hand on Jack's shoulder.  "Look, Geoff, if we don't stop them, they're gonna tear us down."

"Okay, okay, fine," Geoff nodded.  "I'll meet up with them soon.  We can all find them and have a good talk."

"We need to stop them," Jack growled.  "And not just tell them off.  Geoff, they're dangerous and unpredictable.  We have no idea how they're going to react to anything we do or say to them."

Geoff hesitated.  "I don't know, Jack.  They just don't look threatening to me.  Every heist they do, they do it with style and good humor but not with any skill."

"God, you fucking like them, don't you?" Michael said, rolling his eyes.

"They remind me of us," Geoff said.  "Just starting out, causing chaos, you know."

"What do you want to do then?" Jack asked.

Geoff sighed.  "I think I'll offer them an alliance."

 

It took a long time before the two crews could arrange a meeting with all thirteen of them.  Geoff had many phone calls with Adam Kovic, the Funhaus leader, trying to find a time and place that would work.  In the end, they wound up meeting in an abandoned farmhouse up in the Grapeseed area.  Geoff tried not to focus too much on the tremble of Jack's thigh or the twitching of Ray's fingers.  He tried not to stare at Michael's white knuckles on the steering wheel or Gavin's unusual stillness.  Instead, he reached across the seat and patted the top of Ryan's hand.

Whatever happened here would happen, but as long as Geoff had his crew, it would be worth it.  Besides, he'd seen the tapes.  The Funhaus crew were minnows compared to the Fake AH.  They would be just fine.

The farmhouse was a large, three story building, complete with white-picket fence and faded red barn in the distance.  A myriad of sedans littered the lot and Geoff felt suddenly conspicuous in the crew mobile.  As they stepped out, the door opened and a tall, thin man stood in the doorway.

"So, the Fake AH Crew arrives," he called out in a deep, resonating voice.  "I'm Joel, c'mon in, boys."

Geoff took a cursory glance over his crew.  They looked tense, with tightened shoulders and narrowed eyes.  Ray loosened the strap of his rifle and stood shoulder to shoulder with Michael.  Gavin's flexed his fingers and Geoff knew the kid had at least a dozen knives on his body.  Ryan cracked his knuckles and wrapped an arm around Gavin's shoulders.  Jack gave a faint nod and Geoff led his crew inside.

Despite the decrepit outside, the inside of the farmhouse looked surprisingly nice.  The furniture was all in one piece, the electricity still worked, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere.  In fact, if Geoff was honest, he'd keep it as a safe house.  Six men were seated in the living room, one still standing.  Geoff recognized them from the video feeds that Ryan showed him.

Introductions were made.  James, blue eyed and muscular.  Bruce, bearded and loud.  Lawrence, Clark Kent glasses and wide hands.  Spoole (what kind of fucking name was that?), ginger with a baseball cap.  Matt, scruffy and wearing a sweater.  Joel, thin and well dressed.  Adam, strong and impassive.

"Here's the deal," Geoff said, taking charge.  "You guys have been getting a little too close to our territory and our hits.  I've let you run amok for months now but that isn't going to work anymore.  So you can either ally yourselves to us or we'll tear you apart."

The seven of them exchanged a series of glances and raised eyebrows.  Spoole barely lifted his shoulders before lowering them.  Matt briefly nodded.  Joel's lips quirked up.  Small, insignificant tells between them; this was communication that took almost a lifetime to create.

As one, Funhaus Crew nodded in agreement.  And, just like that, the Fake AH Crew allied themselves with Funhaus.  As long as Funhaus gave 15% of their heist money to Fake AH, Geoff would give them weapons and vehicles for whatever they wanted.  At the time, it was a quick, easy fix to deal with the crew.  Geoff had no idea what kind of impact it would have on his crew.

* * *

Ryan and Lawrence met up a few times, exchanging computer information on how to hack various cameras.  After a while, Ryan caught onto Lawrence receiving a dozen texts before leaving their sessions.  Always with the same, dumb, smile on his face.  Today was no different.

"Sorry," Lawrence said, shutting his laptop and tucking it away.  "Gotta run."

"Someone's overprotective," Ryan mentioned.

"Well, six someones," Lawrence shrugged.  "Can hardly blame them, though.  Considering I'm meeting with the notorious Vagabond on a weekly basis."

"Please, _Sir Larrs_ ," Ryan rolled his eyes.  "You can hardly claim to be more sane than me.  I've seen you in action."

Lawrence laughed at that.  "Six lovers are hard to placate, regardless."

Ryan dropped his phone on the table and stared at Lawrence.  "Wh- wait.  Six?  You mean, fucking, your crew?"

"Yes, I am fucking my crew," Lawrence nodded.  "I'm in a relationship with them too.  Like, we're not just a friends with benefits thing."

Ryan's heart skipped a beat.  "And that works?  All seven of you?  Together?"

"Well, yeah," Lawrence said.  "We've been friends for almost ten years, and a crew for four of them.  It happens, you know?  We've just been together for so long it was almost natural, I guess."

"Isn't it complicated?" Ryan asked, his brain running to his crew and the six of them together.  Of Ray tucked beside him, soft kisses with Geoff, cuddling with Jack, smelling Michael's shampoo, waking up with Gavin.

And fuck, if that wasn't something that Ryan dreamed of in the darkest of nights.

Lawrence's shoulders went soft, his eyes warming as he paused in gathering his things.  He looked up at Ryan and Ryan was stunned at the amount of love swimming in Lawrence's eyes.

"It's never been complicated," Lawrence said.  "It was rocky to start, sure, but we couldn't really help ourselves."  Lawrence's eyes went teasing.  "Just some food for thought with your crew."

Ryan spluttered but Lawrence only laughed and left the apartment.

* * *

It was in the middle of weapons testing when Michael figured it out.  Bruce and James had been touchy the entire afternoon - arms around shoulders and almost always pressed up together.

"You two touching tips?" Michael asked as James was testing the new fifty caliber sniper rifle.

"Sure," Bruce shrugged.  "Us two, the other five, the entire crew."

Michael paused from where he was refilling ammo clips and looked up at Bruce.  "Excuse me?"

Bruce winked.  "High stakes crime, rival crews forging alliances, and our little orgy love pile is freaking you out?"

"Not freaking me out!" Michael protested.  "It's just different, fuck.  Not judging, not freaked out, just curious."

"I like it!" James jumped up, holding the gun close to him.  "Can we have it, please?"

"You'll have to take it up with Ray," Michael laughed.  "Those bullets don't come cheap and Ray has dibs.  But, fucking, all goddamn seven of you guys?  One bed?"

"We like to mix it up," James said.

"You know, three of us in one pile, four in another," Bruce tacked on.  "Sometimes one on one.  Between three apartments, we spread ourselves around."

"Okay, back to business," Michael said, turning to the stack of weapons, face flushing.  "What do you guys want?  Other than the fifty cal."

James's face fell at the last comment.  He and Bruce ended up taking two bags of ammo, a couple of assault rifles, three rocket launchers, and a small bag of explosives.

"Holy shit, boys, what are you going to do?" Michael asked as they walked to the car, loading it up with the weapons.

"Spoole thinks that with enough explosives we can actual disintegrate a building," James said.  "Which is a fucking stupid idea, which is why we're going to blow up Trevor's barn out in the desert."

"Oh, fuck," Michael laughed.  "Trevor is going to kill you."

"Eh, occupational hazard, I guess," Bruce shrugged.  "Anyway, thanks for the goods, Michael boy, and hey, make a move on your crew, yeah?"

"What?" Michael spluttered.  Bruce laughed and hopped into the driver's seat.  "Bruce!  What the fuck are you on about?!  No!  You're not fucking driving away!"

James came up to Michael and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  "You just remind us of when we first met each other, before we were the Funhaus Crew.  When we were all ass over teakettle for each other but too scared to say anything.  So take a fucking leap of faith and start your own damn orgy!"

Michael was gobsmacked as James slid into the car and the two drove off.  Flustered, a little embarrassed, and rather turned on, Michael gathered his weapons and hobbled out of the weapons bunker - his brain filled with thoughts of their six man crew in one bed, cozy and together.

"Fuuuuck!" Michael shouted.  He kicked over his table and ignored the pain in his foot from it.  "Fuck you, Funhaus!"

He had been doing such a good job of ignoring the rumblings of feelings in his gut, but now it was all he could think about and, to be honest?  Fuck that shit.

* * *

 "So for a game to be worth the money, it's one dollar per hour.  A game that's $40 should give me 40 hours of game play."

Gavin stared at Spoole for about three seconds and then grinned.  "That makes sense!"

"Right?!" Spoole gestured wildly.  "The other guys don't understand, but it makes perfect sense."

"I am completely changing the way I buy games," Gavin said.  He looked around the empty apartment.  It was after three, the rest of the crew should have been home.  "Where did everyone go?"

"Out and about," Spoole shrugged.  "They do that a lot."

Huh.  "Do you get worried?  Michael told me about... all of you."

Spoole shook his head.  "I mean, I don't do much for the crew, other than provide distraction and such, but we're in this together and I trust them.  Besides, they'e never failed yet."

"But wasn't it hard enough before you all, I don't know, hooked up together?"

"I guess," Spoole shrugged.  "But it also makes it easier.  We're together, you know?  There's none of the regrets or 'I wish I said' since it's all out there.  It's liberating, I guess."

Gavin hummed and nodded.

* * *

Ray liked Matt Peake almost instantly.  He was quiet and a good sniper.  Not bad qualities for a guy to have, in Ray's opinion.

"So when is your crew going to hook up?" Matt asked quietly as they spied out an enemy kingpin.

"What?" Ray looked out of his scope to glance at Matt.

Matt Peake raised an eyebrow and gave the faintest of smirks.  "You mean you guys haven't figured it out yet?"

"Figured out what...?"

Matt let out a soft laugh and lowered his rifle, looking fully at Ray.  "Your crew is like our crew, haven't you noticed?  The six of you are just like the seven of us, only a few years back.  The awkward glances at each other, the strange butterflies, the worry that you actually love the men you work with."

Ray's heart dropped.  "I just... I mean... how did you know?"

Matt only smirked and went back to his gun.  "I'm a sniper, like you.  We see things.  All I'm saying, Ray, is follow your heart, cheesy as fuck as it sounds, do it.  You'll thank me later."

* * *

Joel and Jack met each other frequently, dealing with the administration of allying themselves together.  They talked about money, territories, heist plans, weapons, and the like.  It was a bit exhausting, but Joel was good company, always friendly and charming, and they worked together well.

"You can take Little Seoul," Jack said.  "It's an easy territory, they'll accept a new crime boss without too much struggle."

"Awesome," Joel nodded.  "James and Bruce have been nagging Michael with weapons but, for the love of god, don't give them anything unless I approve.  They'll destroy the entire fucking city."

"Oh, no worries," Jack agreed.  "I wouldn't trust an explosive in Bruce's hands."

"Also," Joel reached out and took Jack's hand in his.  Jack felt instantly awkward - Joel's hands were soft, really soft.  "Tell your boys how you feel.  I promise it will all work out and, to be honest, it's so much better than pining and being alone."

Jack's eyes widened and he yanked his hand free.  "I don't know what you're talking about, Joel."

Joel lifted his hands and shrugged.  "Very well.  Just offering my opinion as someone who has been there before."

* * *

 "Alright, spit it out, Kovic," Geoff said over whiskey.  "I know your crew has been gossiping with mine.  I see the looks."

"Oh, you mean the relationship advice?" Adam said, setting his glass down.  "Yes, I was going to talk to you about that."

Geoff paused.  "You mean about how your crew has been coming onto mine?"

"God, I hope not," Adam said easily.  "We might be in a polyamorous relationship, but I don't think even James would actually cheat on us."

Geoff definitely did a spit take there.  Fucking waste of good alcohol.

"They didn't tell you?" Adam cocked his head to the side - like a confused kitten.  Geoff shook his head viciously and Adam sat up a bit straighter.  "Okay, then my turn."

Instantly, Geoff's thoughts went straight to the gutter and he panicked.  He thought of what Jack would say or the betrayal in Michael's eyes.  He thought of Gavin, Ray and Ryan and realized, oh fuck, he couldn't accept whatever proposition Adam was about to give him.

"My crew is all together," Adam said.  "Romantically.  And sexually, of course.  And, well, we wanted to offer some friendly advice to our new allies."

"Friendly advice?" Geoff asked, violently prying his mind from Ryan's angry eyes pinning him down into a bed.

"Fuck your crew," Adam said.  "Buy them dinner.  Get a fucking huge bed.  Shit, I'll order one for you.  Stop hiding your goddamn love."

"But - " Geoff started to protest but he knew it was useless.  He knew he loved his crew and he knew better than to assume there was nothing between them.

* * *

Weeks later, because this was Fake AH and they would always be a bunch of pussies.  But Adam did order them a huge as dicks bed and the innuendos wouldn't stop and, eventually, Gavin just snapped and jumped on Ryan and, well, their first time as a group of six could have a gone a lot smoother, but it did the trick.

Geoff avoided Adam's eyes for the next week.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking, this drabble killed me. I am pissed with how it went down and it's driving me nuts and I just want the fucking thing posted and out of my brain. To quote Michael "fuck me in my fucking fuckhole fuck"
> 
> Apologies for how this went down. It sounded much better before I started writing.


	8. Alone Together (Started at the End)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a hot and dry night when Adam Kovic met Sean Poole in a gas station robbery.
> 
> It was warm and rainy when Adam decided to run away from home.
> 
> Adam/Sean in GTA AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guessed it! Another fic inspired by Fall Out Boy.

The rain was torrential as is pounded against the house.  Adam ferociously packed his backpack as the thunder rumbled overhead.  It was a muggy thunderstorm in the height of a Los Santos Summer and Adam Kovic was fucking running away.

Though he kind of hated saying he was 'running away' since he was a fucking adult with his own house and roommates and _job_.  He had responsibilities and he was just fucking done with all that shit.  But instead of taking a vacation or a break or something, he was running away.

Lighting flashed and Adam looked out the window.  It looked like a goddamn flood out there.  Not exactly the most perfect day to escape reality, but Adam would take it.  He grabbed his coat and bag and walked out of his room.

It felt a little melancholy, leaving his home and friends.  Adam sighed.  He'd miss them all, to be sure - miss Geoff's excellent cooking and Jeremy's awesome raps, but this was something that he had to do.  He wrote a small note and taped it to the fridge, tucked his key under it and walked out the door forever.

The rain instantly soaked through his shoes and his socks drank up the rain water until he was walking in sloshing steps down the street.  God, he had a stupid idea of what to do and to be honest with himself?  Adam thought he might actually die on the streets.

Tucking his head down, Adam walked into the heart of Los Santos.

* * *

Two weeks before Adam abandoned his life - he was in a robbery.  All he wanted was some goddamn Cheetos and a couple of drinks but apparently that wasn't part of a fucking divine plan.  He was debating between a Red Bull or a Monster when someone screamed.

There was a guy with a red hat at the cashier holding up a gun.  The two other patrons (a high as shit teenager and a simpering college kid) were standing frozen, hands up in the air.  The robber just took the money from the cashier, shoved dozens of packets of gum into his pockets, and turned to leave.  He walked past Adam and paused.

"Go for the Monster," he suggested, glancing up at Adam.  He had a baby face with ginger scruff and peeking eyes.  He grinned slightly.  "Much better than the others."

"Excuse me?" Adam said without thinking, ignoring that this guy had a gun and just fucking  _robbed_ the damn store.

"I'm Spoole," the guy laughed.  "Nice to meet you..."

"Adam."

Spoole smiled and breezed out the door into the hot, dry night.  Adam was left in a burgled gas station, holding a bag of Cheetos and a can of Red Bull.  He stood there until the police came to the scene.  When questioned, Adam shrugged and only mentioned ginger hair and a red baseball hat.

* * *

The bus stop was a brief respite from the pouring rain.  Adam shivered and huddled closer into his jacket.  He really didn't think this shit through.  He just... fucking Spoole got to him and Adam wanted to see him again.

After all, how hard could it be to find a criminal in the biggest crime city of America?  God- he was so fucked.  Then again, it would be easy for Adam to just turn back home and pretend this never happened.

A brown, junker of a car pulled up beside Adam and the window rolled down.

"Where are you going, stranger?"

Adam's face snapped up at the familiar, chipper voice.  A rounded face peeked out of the window, blue hat on top of ginger hair.

"I don't know," Adam said honestly.  "Do you have room for one more troubled soul?"

Spoole laughed and opened the passenger door.  "Hop on in."

Adam didn't hesitate as he gathered his sopping wet bag and clambered into the junker.  It was warm and dry, at least, even as he dripped on the seats.  He knew, vaguely, that he just jumped into a car with a known criminal - a man who fucking robbed a store in front of Adam.

They drove through the storm until they came to a sleek apartment complex.  Spoole pulled in and looked over at Adam.  In this light, his eyes looked almost green and were completely luminous.

"Is this your place?" Adam asked.

Spoole chuckled.  "Nope.  We call this bit revenge.  Or burglary.  Depends on where are you are."

Adam's heart stopped.  "What?"

"You can't tell me you didn't expect this," Spoole said.  "Look.  You are here for a reason, aren't you?  What are you looking for?  What do you want?"

Adam hesitated.  What was he here for?  He wanted to leave his dumbass, scripted life, but for what?  For a goddamn pipe dream?  Because this Spoole character not only chose to spare him - but singled him out?  What exactly was he expecting when he hopped in the car with a criminal?

"I don't know," Adam sighed.

"Well, you wait here then," Spoole turned the car off.  "I'll be back."

"No, no!" Adam reached out.  "Just... maybe something else?"

Spoole's face lit up and he grinned wickedly.  "Let's do it, then."

They drove away from the complex and came crashing into a corner market.  Literally.  The airbags went off and the front door was completely busted open.  Spoole laughed maniacally and grabbed a couple of guns from the backseat.  He tossed one to Adam and jumped from the car.

Adam didn't hesitate to jump out of the car and follow Spoole, something hot and fast pumping in his veins.  The store clerk was quivering behind the counter and Spoole was shoving money into a spare shopping bag.

"Now what?" Adam asked, glancing around suspiciously.

"Profit!" Spoole crowed, throwing the bag at Adam.

"But the fucking car is wrecked," Adam said.

Spoole laughed and turned to the cashier.  "Did you drive here and can I have your car?"

"Just take it!" the cashier cried, throwing the keys over the counter.

"Thank you," Spoole scooped up the keys and knocked the guy out.  He gestured at Adam, "Come on then."

They hijacked the car in the back and Spoole pealed down the streets of Los Santos.  The rain poured down as they drove up the mountain, the car sliding against the slick asphalt.  Spoole laughed the entire time each time Adam yelped in terror.

"I know that feeling," Spoole said as they slid to a parking spot at the top of Mount Chiliad.  "Of running away."

"Huh?"

Spoole picked up a joint and lit it.  The smell of pot filtered in the air and Adam took a deep breath.

"Do you wanna feel beautiful?" Spoole asked, suddenly, smoke filtering out his mouth.

He looked fucking pretty in the soft light of the dashboard with the thunderous sound of rain on the car roof.  The joint burned soft orange and cast warm shadows on his face.

"I don't - " Adam shook his head.

Spoole took a deep breath of his joint and his eyes slowly slipped shut.  Adam swallowed thickly.  Spoole opened his eyes and reached across the center console.  Thick fingers slid through Adam's hair and Spoole brought their lips together.  Adam gasped and felt Spoole blow the smoke into Adam's mouth.  He held the smoke for a few seconds then exhaled.

His eyes had shut at some point and Adam slowly opened them, looking bleary eyed at Spoole.

"Like a natural," Spoole whispered and his breath ghosted over Adam's lips.

He pushed forward and pressed their lips together.  Spoole opened his mouth instantly and Adam could tasted the drug on his tongue.

"You never answered," Spoole said, their lips brushing together.  "Do you want to feel beautiful?"

"I don't know," Adam said, chasing Spoole's kisses.

"Then where are you going?" Spoole pushed Adam away and took another drag of his joint.  "Where are you going with me?"

"I don't know where I'm going," Adam leaned closer to Spoole, inhaling the smoke.  "But I'm not going home and, hey, if I don't wake up dead, then more power to me."

"Do you know what road we're on?" Spoole said.

"Um, fucking, Mount Chiliad?"

"Don't be silly," Spoole crushed the joint against the cup holder.  "This is the road to ruin and we're starting here."

Spoole climbed over the center console and onto Adam's lap, his hands cupped Adam's face and drew him into a hot, wet kiss.  Adam's hand went to Spoole's hips and he rolled up into him.

"There is no going back from here," Spoole whispered, thrusting gently down on Adam's hard on.  "We can stay here, stay young forever, but we can't go back."

"The road to ruin?" Adam gasped and Spoole moved his lips down to Adam's neck, deft fingers running down to unbutton Adam's jeans.

"Damn straight, Adam," Spoole said.  "My name is Sean, by the way.  If we're in this together, might as well know my real name."

"Okay," Adam nodded and clenched his eyes shut.  "Okay.  Let's do this then.  Let's be alone together."

 

 


	9. Taking Back The Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achievement City thought they won when they sent the Mad King down into the labyrinth of his own creation. They had no idea what would rise from those ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go listen to Emperor's New Clothes by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
> I'm a little addicted and, well, King Ryan. And Dark God Ryan.

Thunder shook Achievement City as the lightning split the sky.  The rain was torrential down on the inhabitants and Gavin was glad that it covered the tears streaming down his cheeks.  The crown rested heavy on his head and his heart as they lowered the former Mad King into the labyrinth.  His heart had lurched in pity and sorrow that it had come to this, but there had been no other choice.

"I am sorry," Gavin said as Jack lowered the last stone into place.  "I truly am, but I have my people to think about."

Gavin had to think of Michael's paranoia and of Ray's anxiety.  He had to take into consideration Jack's nightmares and Geoff's silence.  He had to protect Kerry and Lindsay, Matt and Jeremy and Caleb.  Achievement City was once a bright and shining city until Geoff resigned from the throne.  The crown had passed to Ryan, then Ray, then Michael, then back to Ryan which is where it had stayed.

The competitions had been fair and just and no one questioned as the crown bounced around until Ryan got it the second time.  Even then, Ryan had won fair and square.  As the crown was placed on his head something had shifted in the air and Ryan's face twisted into something grim and wicked, deep laughter rumbling in his chest.  Gavin, who had been closer to Ryan than the others, tried to play it off as a joke only to be silenced by a glare.

Then it had been hell.

Those had been the days of the Mad King.  War had been waged across to King Burnie.  Taxes were created and enforced by the Mad King's private army.  He forced the people of Achievement City into building lavish buildings and the labyrinth.  He delved into dark magic and was not afraid to deal harshly with traitors.  It had become too much for the people to bear and so they tricked him.

Confident and arrogant, Ryan couldn't even entertain the thought that someone would take his crown.  But Gavin did.  Gavin had won and he took the crown and banished the Mad King.

With the last stone slid into place, something settled in Gavin's gut.  Ryan's reign of terror was finally over.  Alliances could be remade, homes rebuilt and moral restored.  The loss of one friend was a small price to pay to save an entire city.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin turned to face the people, his people.

"Today we have banished the Mad King," Gavin said.  "We have ended his hellish reign and we begin anew.  I would see our city returned to her former glory and I know as we all work together in harmony as before, that it shall be achieved."

There was polite applause and Gavin swept into his castle.  It would be a long road to recovery.

* * *

Ryan sat up in the darkness.  He knew where he was, he knew the magic of these walls.  He dug his hands into the dirt and chuckled to himself.  So they thought they could banish the Mad King?  They thought this would be the end?

Oh how fucking wrong they were.

He had been so close - so close to his goal.  The sacrifices were strong and the blood was potent.  The magic had come to him as easily as breathing.  They were mere weeks from destroying the others.  Ryan was  _so close_ to complete domination.  It was going to be the beginning of something new and powerful.

Then they had betrayed him.  Gavin had betrayed him.

Well, Ryan lifted up his hands and felt the magic pulse beneath his skin.  Two could play at that game.

This labyrinth was built for so much more than holding Edgar.  This was where he perfected his magic.  This is where the darkness was strong and potent.  He may have used others to build this place but it was seeped in the darkest magic of the land.

And it was here that Ryan summoned it all to himself.

The magic ran across his skin in sharp electric spikes.  It snaked up his arms and legs and wrapped around his torso, tugging at his heart until he thought he might explode.  Then it sang across his bones in piercing stabs and Ryan collapsed to the ground.  This was his body changing - becoming something stronger and tougher and capable of carrying all the magic he had stored for years.

He was going to complete the quest he started when the crown first touched his brow.

Pain exploded across his chest and Ryan screeched and fell into darkness

 

The darkness passed.

 

Strong and powerful, Ryan awoke.  Magic was coursing through his body.  He could crumble the entire city with a snap of his fingers.  Everything was at his sudden disposal and Ryan knew that he had done it.  He looked down and flexed his clawed hands before tracing the cracks of fire that broke over his chest.  Laughter bubbled in his chest and he slid his hands up his chest, up his neck and to the top of his head where two horns curled from his forehead.

It felt so _good_ and so  _right_ that Ryan knew this was who he was.  He was so much more than some foolish Mad King, so much more than all those fucking kings combined!

Flexing his muscles, Ryan stood up smoothly.  This was the end of an era.  This was the end of the stupid monarchy that ruled Achievement City for so long.  With slow and careful strides, Ryan walked to the entrance of the labyrinth.  It took barely a thought and the stone exploded forth, leaving a gaping hole in its place.  Laughing with pure power, Ryan stepped forward.

Like sheep, like fucking lemmings, Achievement City citizens came running for the explosion.  And, one by one, they stopped at the sight of Ryan standing there, naked and full of power with glowing eyes and blackened skin.  At the head was the King, the fool King Gavin.

The traitor.

"I'm taking back the crown," Ryan announced and flung his hand out.

Fire erupted around the city and screams filled the air.  Gavin stood his ground and placed a hand on his sword.

"I am the king now, Ryan," he said.  "You must follow my order."

Ryan laughed at that.  Summoning his new found power, he raised up his arms and called forth the skeletons of those he had killed.  The fire consumed and clouded the sky with smoke and the Ryan's skeleton army marched across the city.

"I am so much more than royals," Ryan swept down to Gavin, coming nose to nose with him.  "Mortal kings rule in castles.  Welcome to my world of fun."

Something like fear shone through Gavin's eyes and Ryan reached over and delicately plucked the crown from Gavin's head and placed it on his own.  After all, it was Ryan's crown.  It had been his crown since he first felt it rest upon his head.  It was Ryan's crown and he was going to take it.

"But - "

"Oh, no," Ryan shook his head and gave Gavin a crooked grin.  "Finders keepers losers weepers, remember?  Bring your friends to the throne room.  It's time to meet your new God."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's way late and I worked a 10 hour shift after going to school so... that's why it's not the best but the idea just wouldn't let me go.


	10. Meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem with Meg wasn't her perfect hair or cute laugh. It wasn't her impeccable style or the way she looked with a gun in her hand. The problem with Meg was how close she was to Ryan. And if there was one thing Gavin never wanted to do, it was piss off Ryan.
> 
> FAHC with Meg/Gavin, background Ryan/Jeremy and platonic Meg&Ryan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is what happens when I marathon Free Play)

Gavin knew the Vagabond, the way people knew about celebrities.  Sure, he was part of the crew, across the pond in England, but he didn't really  _know_ anyone in the crew, other than Geoff.  He watched obsessively over the Fake AH Crew, kept a careful eye on their heists and learned, miles away, where he would fit.  Michael, the demolitions expert.  Jack, the ultimate getaway driver.  Jeremy and Ray, ultimate tag-sniper-team.  Geoff, leader and planner.  B-team, the entire support system.  Ryan, hacker and weapons master.

Which is what Gavin was supposed to do.  The hacking part, not weapons.  Geoff talked about Ryan going full weapons and Ray was planning his retirement from the crew (going solo apparently) and Gavin was going to take over the hacking part so Ryan could go full weapons and help Jeremy with sniping.

He tried not to feel like a replacement to keep the 6 name crew.  It was hard.

Then he was flying across the ocean (with minimal sickness) and picked up by the mask wearing Vagabond and a perky, purple-headed beauty.

"Hi!" the girl smiled brightly and gave him a hug.  She smelled like coconut.  "You must be Gavin!  I'm Meg, this is Ryan.  Geoff sent us to come get you!"

Mutely, Gavin followed and listened as Meg and Ryan bickered with smiles and jostling each other.  It was immediate that they were comfortable with each other.  Ryan kept a hand close to her back and she bumped into him with every exciting comment she shared.

Well.  No one ever mentioned that Ryan had a girlfriend.

 

It became immediately clear that Ryan was definitely the kind of guy to have a girlfriend.  Within the first week, Gavin saw Ryan's charming face (and it was a fucking  _charming ass_ face), heard his deep laugh, and watched him and Meg in an infinite number of cutesy situations.

He watched them dance in the living room with her singing off key.  He saw Meg feed Ryan exotic food that Jeremy would bring to the base.  When there were team games (bonding activities according to Geoff) they almost always teamed up and crushed the competition.  They went on stakeouts, on reconnaissance, and other various undercover operations together.

And they looked  _good_ together.

Ryan, tall with his dark blond hair and crystal blue eyes and strong jaw.  His broad shoulders and thick arms and roguish smile.  Next to him would be Meg, tiny in designer closes and perfect hair.  Her perfect hourglass shape and stunning grin and delicate features.  They just matched and anyone with eyes could see that.

The thing that really sold it to Gavin that Meg and Ryan were totally a thing was that Meg wasn't part of the Fake AH.  Geoff, Michael, Ray, Jeremy, Ryan and Gavin were all Fake AH.  Trevor, Steffie, Caleb, Matt, Lindsay were all Fake AH B-Team.  Meg, however, was part of a completely different gang.  The all ladies crew of north side Los Santos.  Yet she hung around the crew and Geoff's Penthouse as if she was part of the Fakes.

But only with Ryan.

Ah, well, it was none of Gavin's business, really.

 

Nope.  It was definitely part of Gavin's business because fucking Meg was too beautiful, too charming, and too flirty for Gavin to handle.  Once Gavin relaxed and became much more of the crew, Meg became a serious part of his life.  Michael was his boi and Jeremy was his fucking-dumb-idea-buddy.  Geoff and Jack became dad and mom and Ryan was the man he could argue with forever.

But Meg.

She was funny and witty.  She was charming and beautiful.  She and Gavin ended up spending late nights playing Crossy Road while the rest of the crew went home to bed.  She took each of his stupid questions and twisted them back on itself.  She always had a smile for Gavin and would sneak up next to him during movies.

So yeah, Gavin fell a little bit in love with her.

Naturally, he told Michael first.

"Ryan's going to kill me!" Gavin said, collapsing onto Michael's bed.  "I'm fucking flirting with his girlfriend and I'm going to die.  He's going to bury me in the desert and no one is ever going to find me."

"Ryan has a girlfriend?" Michael asked, turning away from the C4 he was counting.  "Are you sure?"

"Him and Meg!" Gavin said, squashing a pillow on his face.  "I am literally the worst."

Michael was silent for five, tense seconds of Gavin trying to smother himself.  Then he burst into laughter.

"Meg and Ryan?" Michael said between laughter.  "Dude, I've heard of some weird things, but that's the fucking weirdest."

"Why?!" Gavin demanded.  "They're always together, and super touchy.  I've seen Ryan dodge hugs from Jack but let Meg cuddle beside him during movies.  It's obvious that they're close so why is this so ridiculous?  Michael!"

"Sorry, sorry, boi," Michael leaned backwards in his chair.  "It's just... okay it's a couple things.  Like how Ryan's fucking Jeremy and Meg is Ryan's little sister."

Gavin screamed and Michael laughed even more.

"Well, not technically," Michael shrugged.  "They're like, half siblings or something.  I'm not sure, actually.  But they're not fucking, not dating, so go for it.  You can date Meg."

"This is even worse!" Gavin shouted, flinging the pillow at Michael.  "Stop laughing!  It's not funny!"

Michael's laughter went straight to a cackle.

"And Ryan and Jeremy?  Really?!"

 

The worst thing was after all that, Gavin started to notice it.  Meg was still as close to Ryan as she had ever been, but Gavin noticed the sibling notes in the way they talked.  References to past events, the same sense of witty humor.  There was nothing else between them.

Ryan and Jeremy, on the other hand, were absolutely fucking.  Gavin saw that now.  The long stares, the smirks between them, the fond (and exasperated) glances that Geoff sent their way.  In fact, Gavin felt like an idiot for not noticing it first.

But if it was bad enough to want Ryan's girlfriend, wanting his sister (half-sister?) was even worse.  There were many things that Gavin was scared of but none of that compared to Ryan the fucking Vagabond Haywood.  Gavin had seen him take down twelve cops by himself.  He had seen the remains of Ryan's victims.  He once saw Ryan crush a man's skull for getting to close to Jeremy.

What would he do if Gavin hooked up with Meg?

He didn't have any time to dwell on that because, two weeks after he confessed to Michael, Meg had grabbed him by the neck and kissed him.  Gavin couldn't spark enough brain cells to protest, much less consider the consequences, and instead kissed her back.

The next morning, Ryan burst into his room, flinging a knife into Gavin's headboard.

"Ryan!" Meg pouted from next to Gavin, blanket pulled up close.  "Be nice!"

Ryan shrugged.  "That's for not having the balls to confess earlier.  I'll be much less kind if this goes wrong."

Meg rolled her eyes and Gavin felt his dick literally shrivel up a little at the ice in Ryan's voice.  Then Ryan's eyes went soft and he laughed a little.

"Welcome to the family then," he said with a smile.

"Did Meg throw a knife at Jeremy?" Gavin asked to Ryan's retreated back.

"No," Ryan said, shutting the door.

Meg smiled up at Gavin with sparkling eyes.  "I shot at him."


	11. Beserker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael had been a viking all his life - but he wasn't about to stop there. He wanted to be part of the King's guard, wanted to be a viking beserker. But he was small for viking standards and no king would hire or train him. Michael, though, was a viking through and through and he had the stubbornness to prove it.
> 
> Ryan/Michael Viking!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so into ancient warfare and vikings are right up there.
> 
> And viking beserkers just reminded me of Mogar. I also have a thing, apparently, for Ryan teaching Michael things.

From the moment Michael saw the beserkers, draped in their fur pelts and snarling at enemies, he knew that it was his future.  It didn't matter that he was shorter than the other vikings by an entire head, Michael knew he was just as vicious as the others and he could be one of the beserkers.  He could be part of the team that kept King Geoff alive and well.

Come hell or high water, he was going to be there.

There was a viking beserker who was the leader of that troop - he was the biggest, the strongest, and by fuck he was the scariest.  His name was Ryan and if Michael wanted to be one of the beserkers, he'd have to go through Ryan.

Ryan might be intimidating as shit, dressed in his wolf pelts with tattoos up and down his muscular arms, but Michael was a viking too.  He was called by Odin to be a beserker and fuck everything if he wasn't going to do it.

Grabbing his axe and sword, Michael walked up to Ryan, intent to prove his worth this year.

"Well, well, well," Ryan said as Michael gripped his sword tighter.  "The little spit fire has returned again."

"Shut up," Michael snapped, hating that he had to look up to Ryan.  "I've trained and practiced.  I've gone on raids and come back victorious.  I've heard Odin's call and I am hear to answer to it."

"You've said as much in years past," Ryan said, folding his thick arms over his equally thick chest and walking around him.  "But this is different than anything you've seen before.  Are you certain you can handle it?"

"Of course I am," Michael snapped.

Ryan stopped in front of Michael, close enough that Michael could see the raised skin of Ryan's tattoos, the slight sheen of sweat covering his skin, the thick muscles of his chest.  Michael swallowed thickly and looked up at Ryan with as much venom as he could muster.  He too was muscled and strong.  He had tattoos of his victories across his arms.  He was just as worthy to be of the beserker rank as Ryan.

"I give you one month," Ryan said eventually.  "One month you will be with us, learn of our ways and raid with us.  If you prove yourself then we will welcome you.  If not... well, there's always next year."

Michael's heart lurched in his chest with anticipation.  Surely in one month he could prove his worth to Ryan.  With a firm set to his mouth, Michael nodded.  Ryan grinned, wide and ruthless, and turned without another word.

 

The beserkers were a small group, an elite group, and Michael refused to feel small in front of them.  Ryan, big and broad, was their leader.  Then there was Adam, his second in command, with biceps the size of Michael's head.  James was tall with brilliant blue eyes, able to divine the stars and prophecies.  Bruce was built like a tree with a ferocious war cry and there was Lawrence, brilliantly minded with a beserker's spirit.

Michael wasn't as built as these beserkers nor as tall but he had the same beserker fury and he was going to fucking prove it.

"First lesson," Ryan said, hefting his huge axe over his shoulder.  "You need to find your animal companion."

Gathering up their weapons, the beserkers followed Ryan into the forest and Michael hustled to follow.  The forests were known for bears and wolves and one of those animals was going to be the one that Michael summoned in battle.  Most of the beserkers had wolf pelts, including Ryan.  Adam had a bear pelt, one he got in the winter when bears were sluggish and sleepy.

This, however, was summer when the predators were vicious and hungry.  And that was the animal Michael was going to kill.

So when the bear came charging at them, roaring furiously, Michael knew that his time had come.  He lifted up his axe, let out a war cry, and charged.

When he came to, Michael was covered in blood, chest heaving, and a dead bear before his feet.  He looked at the rest of the beserkers, standing around in awe - except for Ryan.  He only looked vaguely impressed.

"Skin it," Ryan said.  "Bring the furs to camp.  We will teach you the way to summon your animal spirit in the heat of battle."

With a wave, the beserkers followed Ryan out of the forest, Adam stopping to pat him on the shoulder.  Michael wiped the blood from his face, picked up a small knife, and started skinning the beast.

Back at camp, the beserkers had started a fire and set up a place for Michael to tan the fur into a cloak for him to wear.  They looked at him with respect now as Michael dropped the bear fur near the fire.

"Impressive," Lawrence said, gesturing to the furs.  "Adam killed a bear once, but it was hard one battle."

Michael glanced over at Adam, saw him run fingers over a deep, pink scar on his chest.

"Don't encourage him," Ryan snapped.  "Michael, come with me.  James will take care of your pelt."

James nodded and Ryan stalked off into the forest.  Michael had no choice but to follow.  Once they were a fair distance away, Ryan stopped abruptly and turned to Michael.

"You fought well," Ryan said.  "Like a true viking warrior, you stood your ground.  Now, let me teach you about the bear you just killed."  Ryan pulled off his wolf pelt and laid it on the ground.  "My animal is the wolf, my spirit companion.  The wolf is strong, protective, intelligent.  Before battle, I channel in his ferocity, his nature to protect, and I fight to keep my king safe.  Tell me of your bear."

"The bear is strong as well," Michael said.  "Docile unless provoked.  He uses his size as an advantage, fights to the bitter end, and never gives up."

"And are you a bear, little Michael?" Ryan asked, his face twisted into a snarl.  "For I am wolf, my beserkers are my pack, and I protect my king, my alpha, until my last breath.  What are you, Michael?"

Michael closed his eyes and remembered the sheer ferocity and strength that took over when he killed the bear.  The blood singing in his veins as he proved himself worthy to fight along the beserkers.  He remembered the burning desire to prove himself to Ryan, the biggest and strongest viking to ever live on the mortal plane.

He was bear, has been forever.  There was a fury inside him just waiting to be unleashed.  He felt the wildness, the ferocity, the passion inside him build and build until it burst in his chest.  Michael let out a roar and snapped his eyes open.  The world was bathed in red and his lungs were heaving.

"You are bear," Ryan said, his voice sounding funny in Michael's head.

Something different bloomed in his chest, something far more warm and far more passionate.  His eyes narrowed in on Ryan's face, the beard and hair and naked chest covered with tattoos.  He could smell the sweat on Ryan's skin, almost taste it, and Michael suddenly wanted it.

He stalked up to Ryan, licking his lips and narrowing his vision to Ryan's brilliant eyes.

"I am Mogar," Michael growled, standing right in Ryan's face, chest to chest.

"Mogar," Ryan repeated, looking down at Michael through hooded eyes.  "You are  _mine_."

Then Ryan's lips were on his and Michael didn't realize this was where it was leading up to but  _fuck_ he didn't want it to stop.  Ryan was just as vicious in his kiss as he was with everything else and Michael felt the bear in him fight back.  He wasn't going to roll over to some dog.

He weaved his hands in Ryan's hair and yanked hard.  Ryan whined and grabbed Michael's hips, bringing their bodies tight together.

"Don't think this is a free pass," Ryan said.  "You still have to prove yourself, Mogar."

"I will," Michael said.  "Now put your fucking mouth to good use."

 

The month passed by quickly and Michael felt as though he'd been a beserker forever.  He belonged here.  Adam, James, Lawrence, Bruce, they all welcomed Michael quickly after the bear.  They took him in and taught him.

As for Ryan, he fucked Michael on occasion but pushed him past all his limits and never gave him an inch.  Michael wanted to resent him, resent Ryan for not believing him or encouraging him, but damn the man was talented.

They went on a raid at the end of the month, some poor church in England, and Michael was shaking with excitement.  He was draped in his bear pelt with an axe over his hip and a torch in hand.

He burned down building after building, laughing maniacally and chopping down anyone who stood in his way.  Bruce grabbed the loot and ran back to the longboats with Lawrence.  Adam slid the throat of a guy and grinned at Michael.  James grabbed a woman and took her to the boat and Ryan was gone.

Michael turned around and saw Ryan on the ground, blood splattered over his chest.  The bear in Michael, the bear that pushed him to recognize the desire he felt for Ryan, roared up in agony.  Once, Ryan mentioned the wolves mate for life, and while bears did not, Ryan was a wolf.

The world turned red and Michael roared.  He ran up to Ryan, cutting down anyone who was in his way.  He jumped on top of Ryan, growling protectively over his prone body.

"Emotional," Ryan coughed.  "Gonna get you killed."

"Fuck you," Michael growled.  "If you're gonna fucking get yourself killed then I'll do as I fucking please."

"Not my blood," Ryan said.  "Just got hit in the head.  You fought well and I'd be honored to have you join the beserkers."

Michael bent down and gave Ryan a deep and filthy kiss.  "We will fight together and when we die in battle, we shall meet again in Valhalla."

"That's something I can look forward to," Ryan said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a tumblr now! Come visit and talk :)
> 
> http://gameralexis51.tumblr.com/


	12. Jacuzzi for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff and Jack enjoy the new yacht and all its amenities.
> 
> Geoff/Fem!Jack FAHC with mentions of no-strings-attached Ryan/Jeremy/Michael/Gavin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about seeing Jack's character in her bikini during the Yacht Party Let's Play just spawned this idea.

Whenever Geoff got drunk, he had a tendency to spend money like it was burning a hole in his pocket.  No matter how much Jack would complain, taking away his credit card with soft fingers and closing the laptop, she loved it when Geoff showered her with gifts.

Like now, when Geoff bought his yacht, the soon-to-be famous Fake AH Bang Boat.  It took only half a bottle of whiskey for that idea to come into fruition, even though Geoff knew that his boys would probably fuck in every spare spot on that boat.

As long as they left the Jacuzzi alone, Geoff was okay with that.  Marginally.

They broke in the yacht with a series of explosions, flares, and lots of drinks.  Jeremy and Gavin were flirting like mad, drunk off their asses.  Michael was so drunk he was getting punchy, challenging Gavin to hot tub fist fights - to which Ryan laughed and splashed them both.

Watching his boys flirt and shout filled Geoff with such fondness for them.  He never imagined that starting a crew would build a family.

"Starting the party without me?"

Geoff felt his lips twitch up into a smile at the sound of Jack's voice.  He turned around in the hot tub, hands already reaching out for her.  She looked stunning with her black bikini, nothing special or decorative, but stunning regardless.  Jack never needed a lot of decorations - she was gorgeous just on her own.

"Never, babe," Geoff said.  "Just the kids fucking around."

Jack laughed and let Geoff lead her into the Jacuzzi, ignoring the others and their drunken fight.  The six of them settled down, letting the water and jets soothe over their aching muscles.  Last week was heist week and it left them aching and sore.

This is what it meant to be king of Los Santos - a personal, private yacht in the ocean, billions of dollars for the spending, and hours of time to kill in the biggest of luxuries.

"Ryan, what the fuck did you do to your chest?" Jack asked, letting Geoff tug her close.

Ryan looked down at the skull shaved into his chest hair and actually blushed.  Michael started cackling and Gavin lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head.

"Jeremy did it," Gavin said quickly.

"Bullshit!" Jeremy protested, sending a splash of water to Gavin's perfectly coiffed hair.    "You fucking bet him ten grand to do it!"

"But you're the one who did it!" Gavin shouted.

"Because you can't even draw a fucking skull!" Jeremy protested.

Jack laughed as Gavin spluttered and squawked some kind of response.  She nestled a little closer against Geoff and he tried not to grin like a loon.

The sun started to set and the four boys left the hot tub, Michael with Ryan and Gavin with Jeremy.  Geoff never bothered to understand how they worked out their weird, no strings attached sex life, but they never let it interfere with work so Geoff just let it go.

"Those boys are going to be the death of us," Jack said fondly, sliding even closer to Geoff.

"It's like having children," Geoff agreed.

Jack stood up then, flinging one long, toned leg over Geoff's lap and settling herself against his thighs.  She reached her hands out, running them through Geoff's hair, nails scraping his scalp.  Geoff couldn't help it when his hips slowly rolled up.  The orange sunlight caught Jack's hair and made it look like fire.  She was stunning and Geoff couldn't stop his hands running up her thighs, across her hips, and dug his fingers into her waist.

"What if we did that?" Jack asked.

"Did what?" Geoff asked, distracted by her fingers, clever and quick, twisting into his hair.

"Had kids."

"In this lifestyle?" Geoff said.  "We don't have exactly a kid friendly job."

Jack shrugged.  "Yeah, but, maybe someday, don't you think?"

"Maybe?" Geoff said, trying to think straight as Jack slid closer down Geoff's legs until their hips were nestled together and Geoff definitely didn't stop himself from jerking his hips up.

Jack laughed, sweet and light, and pressed their foreheads together.  "Don't think too hard, Geoff.  We have all the time in the world to think about it."

"And four children anyway," Geoff shrugged.  "Who are probably fucking each other in the master bedroom."

"I guess we'll have to make due here," Jack's smile turned coy as she kissed him.

It started soft, slow and gentle.  Jack's tender lips moved smoothly against Geoff's and his fingers gripped her waist, tugging her closer.  He teased her mouth open, flicking his tongue out for a taste.  She arched against him, rolling her hips and let out a soft, warm gasp.

Trailing his fingers up her back, Geoff tugged on the tie of her bikini, letting it fall away.  She pulled away from his lips, laughing into the darkness and Geoff didn't hesitate to kiss her neck, sucking on the warm skin there.

"I didn't think you'd actually go for it," Jack said breathlessly as Geoff's hands moved up and down her back, across her front to tweak her nipples.

"It's my yacht," Geoff breathed against her collarbones.  "We can do whatever the fuck we want."

To prove his point, Geoff traced his fingers down her chest, over her tummy, and tucked them under her bikini bottom.  Jack shivered in his arms as Geoff gently pushed into her.  Grinning to himself, Geoff sped up his movements, biting a mark onto Jack's neck.  Her hands were practically pulling his hair out and she started moving, fucking herself onto Geoff's fingers.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped.  "Geoff, please."

He twisted his fingers, using his thumb to rub against her clit and she moaned, clutching Geoff closer and closer.  Geoff knew she was close, he could tell by the way her rolling hips went sporadic, how her fingernails started digging into his shoulders.  She gasped and moaned, half breathed words escaping her lips.  Moving his lips down, Geoff attached his mouth to her nipple, sucking and biting as she practically clawed into his back.

"Oh, my god!" Gavin screeched across the deck.

Geoff twisted his fingers inside Jack, pressing against her sweet spot until she came, twitching and panting, before falling limp against Geoff's body.  Looking over her shoulder, ignoring his raging boner, Geoff caught Gavin's eyes as he slid his fingers from Jack.

"Wha- ho- what the fuck, Geoff?!" Gavin shouted.  "In the hot tub?!"

"Like you're better," Geoff looked pointedly at Gavin's bruised neck and chest.

"But the hot tub!" Gavin cried.  "That's - we all swim in that!"

Geoff shrugged.  "Worried you'll get pregnant, Gav?"

Gavin looked completely gobsmacked and managed a shrill "No!" in response.  Al the shouting attracted Jeremy, who stumbled up to Gavin.

"The fuck you yelling about?" Jeremy asked.

"Geoff and Jack fucked in the hot tub!" Gavin complained.

"Did not," Jack said, wearily lifting her head up and turning to the two.  Then she turned to Geoff with a wink.  "Although, we have time to fix that."

Gavin's ensuing scream brought out Michael and Ryan from the depths of the yacht, both wrapped up in thick, white robes.  Michael flung an arm around Gavin's shoulder.

"What's wrong, boi?" he asked.

"He's upset because Jack and Geoff are getting it on in the Jacuzzi," Jeremy said.

"Ooh," Ryan grinned, folding his arms.  "Mom and Dad are  _fucking_."

"Yes, we are!" Geoff said.  "So if you want to stand and watch, go right ahead."

"Yeah, right," Michael rolled his eyes.  "Always took you for an exhibitionist, but Jack wouldn't."

Geoff shimmied out of his swim trunks, picked up Jack and spun them around so she was sitting and he was looming over her.  He yanked down her bikini bottom and flung it onto the deck before kissing her.

He heard the others scream and shout in various curses.  Peeking out, Geoff saw them running for the inside of the yacht, shouting about bleach and PTSD, but Geoff didn't care as Jack pulling him down again.


	13. Fight for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin didn't understand hockey. It looked like a big excuse to fight. But his best friends were on the hockey team so Gavin was forced to come to the games.
> 
> And then, of course, there was Jeremy.
> 
> Gavin/Jeremy Hockey!AU with a side of Michael/Lindsay and Ryan/Trevor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I haven't written a Gavin/Jeremy centered thing and that needs to be fixed immediately. Entirely influenced by the AH Hockey League. Note: I don't know anything about hockey. (Ignore cheesy title I had literally nothing)
> 
> Feel free to follow me on tumblr!  
> http://gameralexis51.tumblr.com

Hockey was perhaps the most ridiculous sport that Gavin ever had the misfortune to witness.  From what he could see, it was just a big excuse to punch people in the face and skate around a rink.

Then again, maybe that was just his friends.

Their local Achievement City Hockey Team wasn't one of the best in the league, but they weren't the worst.  What they lacked in tactics they more than made up for in ferocity.  Ryan was ridiculously proud of how many players he sent to the hospital (he was pushing fifteen) and Michael gave an opposing goalie a concussion from scoring a goal.  That didn't even start with Geoff speed or Jack's massive frame.

So yeah, hockey - load of bollocks.  But Gavin was a good friend and went to every home game.  And, to be honest, hearing Ryan scream at the top of his lungs to the other team was fucking hilarious.

"Break him!  Kill him!" Ryan growled, crashing into player after player and allowing Michael to score again and again.

The poor opposing team soon skated far away from Ryan when he came across the rink, shouting and growling with Michael beside him.  Gavin couldn't help but laugh as Ryan shouted "fight me!" and promptly knocked a guy out in five second flat.

"Do you follow any of this?" Gavin asked Lindsay, who was cheering loudly beside him.

"Not in the least!" Lindsay shook her head.  "But come on, it's just fights."

Ryan was tossed into the penalty box, still shouting at the players while flashing cocky grins to the fans in the stands.  His fans, actually.  Tall, blond Ryan with his charming grin had his own fan section and he knew it.  Gavin rolled his eyes with a fond a smile - he and Ryan had been friends since elementary school; Gavin was used to it.

A new player skated onto the ice, someone that Gavin didn't recognize and he knew the entire team.  He was short and broad and started the period by crashing a player into the wall.

"Who's that?" Gavin asked, pointing to the newcomer.

"Jeremy Dooley," Lindsay supplied.  "Recruited after Ray retired.  Michael says he's good, like a less volatile, miniature Ryan."

"I'm sure Ryan loves that," Gavin chuckled.

"Apparently, he does," Lindsay shrugged.  "He goes on and on about having a mini-me to train when he eventually leaves."

Their team won, of course.  Two points in the last thirty seconds pushing them to the lead (thank fucking Christ for Jack).  Gavin cheered and applauded and watched with fondness as the team gathered on the ice, tearing helmets off in their victory.  Michael immediately finding Lindsay to the crowd and blowing a kiss to his fiancee.  Ryan waved to his adoring fans and spared a glance for his best friend.

Then Jeremy took his helmet off and Gavin had an actual fairy tale moment.  Fucking  _hell_ Jeremy was hot.  Ryan tucked Jeremy under his arm, giving him a noogie, and Gavin realized he was actually fucked.

As per tradition, Gavin and his hockey friends went out to a 24 hour diner to celebrate their dinner.  And, as usual, Ryan had a black eye and Michael had bloody knuckles.  Matt was gingerly sitting down, torso no doubt bruised to shit from blocking pucks.

They had their own table in the back and Gavin found himself sitting right next to Jeremy.  He looked considerably less big out of his uniform, but he still had shoulders broad enough to take down Ryan.

"To another fucking victory!" Geoff crowed, lifting up his drink.

Everyone lifted up their glasses and cheered and Gavin gave a small glance to Jeremy.  He was smiling bright, face absolutely lit up.

"Thanks for taking me out, guys," Jeremy said.  "Really means a lot."

"You're part of the team," Jack said.  "And Ryan likes you."

"Yeah, but Gavin's my best friend, so what does that say about my taste?" Ryan said, kicking Gavin underneath the table.

"Oi!" Gavin kicked back.  "I'm your best fucking friend.  I have put up with your womanizing for years!  And this is how you repay me?!"

Jeremy laughed from beside Gavin and Gavin grinned, completely ignoring the knowing stare from Ryan.

 

It took no time at all for Jeremy to fit seamlessly into their group and Gavin was absolutely losing his shit about it.  He was charming, handsome, strong as fuck, and hilarious.  He went out to dinner with Lindsay and Michael and complained about how perfect Jeremy was until they got fed up, then complained to Trevor until he ran off with Matt.

Then he cried about it to Ryan - lovely Ryan, his best friend Ryan, and he just laughed.

"For the record," Ryan said over lunch.  "Jeremy's dumb as a bag of hammers.  Kid's a great player and a good fighter, but he can't read social cues to save his life.  If you're into him you need to tell him.  He might not know any better."

"I can't do that!" Gavin cried out.  "You know that Ryan!  I can't handle that kind of rejection!  And he's just so handsome and funny and strong and I'm just Gavin."

"Trust me," Ryan said.  "Jeremy is very into you.  Are you done now?  Because I've got a date, actually."

Gavin stared at him.  "You have a date.  Charming, womanizing, Ryan motherfucking Haywood, has a date."

"Um, yes?" Ryan said, dropping a few bills on the table.  "Trevor and I have a movie to see and he said he'd cook me dinner so... yeah, a date."

Gavin's mouth hung open.  "You have a date with  _Treyco_?!"

"Yeah, so I'm gonna go," Ryan stood up and straightened his jacket.  "Don't forget about the hockey finals next week.  Tell Jeremy."

 

Sitting in the front of the rink was always the most intense.  Watching men get slammed into the window, faces bloodied and bruised.  But Lindsay got these seats special from Michael and even invited Trevor to sit with them.

What was the most surprising was seeing Trevor shout just as loudly as Ryan on the ice.  Which was met with Ryan slamming people into the window they were sitting at.

"It's like horrible, sociopath presents," Gavin said as he watched another one of Ryan's victims slid down the window, smearing blood and sweat over the window.

"Isn't it sweet?" Trevor smiled.

Gavin swore to never give Trevor a reason to hate him.  When he turned back to the rink, there was a fight breaking out on the ice.  The crowd was shouting, Lindsay was stomping her feet, and Gavin felt ice down his spine when he saw Jeremy's jersey caught in the middle of the fight.

"Break him!" Ryan surged into the fight as Jeremy stumbled.  "Give him everything you got!"

Ryan jumped on one of the guys and Jeremy collapsed into a heap.  The fight ended with blood on the ice, Ryan out for the rest of the game, and the two other men unconscious.  Jeremy was awake but dizzy, sitting on the bench with his face bruising.

As the period came to an end, Gavin literally hurdled over Lindsay to get to where the team sat.  He knocked on the glass until Jeremy looked up and gave a small grin.  Jeremy, a little wobbly, walked up to Gavin and opened the door.

"Hey, Gavvers," Jeremy mumbled.

"Good fight," Gavin said.  "Lucky Ryan was there."

"Coulda won," Jeremy shrugged, giving Gavin a lopsided smile.  "Specially with you watching."

Something warm burst in Gavin's chest and he gingerly reached out to touch the bruise on Jeremy's cheek.

"Don't need to," Gavin whispered.  "I mean, you don't need to fight for me."

"Wanted to," Jeremy said.

And Gavin kissed him.  It was gentle and slow, Gavin hyper aware of Jeremy's bruised face, but Jeremy let out a sigh, his hands digging into Gavin's hip, and all thoughts of slow left Gavin's mind.

Luckily, a loud buzzer went off and Gavin pulled back, remembering that he was at the hockey league finals and he just made out with one of AC's star players.

"Um, um," Gavin fumbled.  "I'll see you after the game?"

"Counting on it," Jeremy grinned.


	14. A New Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the crew growing ever stronger, Geoff knew it was his time to retire - to become a simple grunt in the Fake AH, but that meant finding someone to take over his position.
> 
> Fake AH Crew, brief mention of Jack/Geoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to Lindsay and her promotion! I can't think of a better person to be the new manager of AH :D

Geoff had been planning this for a long time.  He was getting too old for this shit, to be honest.  He had built up a criminal empire underneath the name of Ramsey but he was tired.  He wanted to spend time with Jack, spend time out on heists, cause mindless mayhem without worrying about his empire.

It was time for Geoff to find an heir, for lack of a better word.

He knew he couldn't take any of his original crew.  Those boys were the heart and soul of this crew, the face and weapons.  Jack, Michael, Ryan, Jeremy, and Gavin were the criminal face of the Fakes.  No one in Los Santos knew about B-Team, about the Fakehaus drug dealers or the ScrewFakes weapons dealers or the Kinda Fakes assassins and how they related to Fake AH.

But, when push came to shove, Geoff already knew who he was going to pick.

"You wanted to see me, boss?" Lindsay stepped into his office, bubblegum hair glowing.

Geoff smiled and gestured for Lindsay to sit down.  He reached into the desk, pulled out a manila envelope, and slid it across the desk.  Lindsay glanced down at the envelope, up at Geoff, before opening it.  She pulled out a stack of papers, a set of keys, and two flash drives.

"Geoff, what is this?" Lindsay asked, spreading the papers out.  Geoff couldn't help the fond smile as he watched Lindsay run a critical eye over the documents.  There were maps, files on all the people in their syndicate, a list of dirty cops, and so many more.

"You know what this is," Geoff said softly.  "The flash drives have more delicate information.  The keys are to our warehouses, our safe houses, and my personal storage unit."

"Geoff, this is..." Lindsay started.

"This is what makes Ramsey King of Los Santos," Geoff said.  "And now it's yours."

Lindsay's face shifted from shock, to panic, to determination in the span of seconds.  She tucked everything back into the folder and folded her hands on the desk.

"It would be an honor to lead the crew," Lindsay said reverently.

"From now on, you will be Ramsey," Geoff stood up.  "That is the name that strikes fear into the hearts of everyone in this city.  Just because I'm not leading this crew doesn't mean the name can't stay."

"Like the Dread Pirate Roberts," Lindsay said with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah," Geoff rolled his eyes.  "As you wish, Ramsey."

Lindsay laughed and stood up as well.  "I won't let you down, sir."

Geoff smiled and put his hands on Lindsay's shoulders.  "You never have."


	15. Popular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy joined the Fake AH Crew and the last thing he expected was for Gavin Free, assassin extraordinaire, to start singing at him.
> 
> General Fake AH AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to "Popular" from Wicked and imagine Gavin singing to Jeremy.

Jeremy was sat down on the couch, Gavin was standing in front of him, looking down at him with critical eyes.  The rest of the crew was gathered in the kitchen, watching on with barely concealed grins.

"What's up, Gavin?" Jeremy asked nervously.

Gavin only hummed, took a step back, and promptly broke into song.

 _Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I,_  
And let's face it - who isn't, less fortunate than I?  
My tender heart tends to start to bleed

Jeremy turned to Geoff and the others in the kitchen, a desperate plea on his face.  What the fuck was Gavin singing?  More importantly,  _why_ the fuck was he singing?  Was this some stupid initiation?

 _And when someone needs a makeover_  
I simply have to take over  
I know, I know exactly what you need.

 _And even in your case_  
though it's the toughest case I've yet to face,  
don't worry, I'm determined to succeed -  
follow my lead and yes, indeed,  
you will be

Gavin gave a dramatic pause and Jeremy had half a mind to jump from the couch and flee the penthouse suite.  Michael was sniggering in the corner and Gavin didn't even hesitate to go to the next line.

 _Popular!_  
You're gonna be popular!  
I'll teach you the proper poise when you talk to boys  
little ways to flirt and flounce!

Jeremy cringed and slumped into his couch more.  Geoff's giggles carried over the room and a flush exploded over Jeremy's cheeks.  He couldn't even be angry at what Gavin was implying by the song.  He just wanted to sink into the ground and die but instead Gavin was still singing about how unpopular Jeremy was and that Gavin was going to fix all that.

_You're gonna be popular  
Just not quite as popular as me!_

"Oh, my god, is it over?" Jeremy mumbled from behind his hands, his face flaming.

"Oh, please," Gavin said.  "My work is just beginning, or did you not listen to a word I just sang to you?"

Geoff's giggles exploded into laughter, as did Michael's, and Jeremy never felt so embarrassed in his entire life.

"You are going to be popular, whether you like it or not," Gavin said, resting a hand on his hip.  "This is the Fake AH Crew and we need to look like it.  No like some - some casual mercenary!"

"What about Ryan?" Jeremy countered.  "His dad jeans and baggy shirts are hardly what you wear!"

"Yes, but... it's Ryan," Gavin shrugged.  "There's nothing I can do to convince him otherwise - believe me, I've tried.  But you!  You've got those beautiful muscles and thin hips and it's a crime to not to show that off!"

"No point in arguing," Michael laughed.  "You're Gavin's new project, might as well accept it."

Jeremy sighed and bowed his head.  "Fine, whatever Gavin."

Gavin grinned like the sun and dragged Jeremy away, babbling about fabrics and colors and what would match with Jeremy's complexion.  Then it was all about how to be charming in the face of kingpins.

This is far from what Jeremy anticipated joining the crew but now he was overwhelmed with information about why he couldn't wear his t-shirts and jeans to important meetings.


End file.
